Chapter 1
London， January 1752
THERE WAS NO MOON. A mist rose
from the black waters of the Thames， sending
up the dank odor of river slime. The mist
mingled with inrolling winter fog. Fog and mist
curled over the waterfront like a shroud， hiding
the coach-and-four that waited on the quay.
Alert to waterfront dangers and armed with
cudgels， three footmen guarded the coach. The
footmen sniffed the fo.g， listening. From a jum-
ble of dilapidated taverns near the quay came
the loud roistering of sailors well into their
cups.
Footsteps sounded. The guards tensed. Two
heavily painted prostitutes with identical orange
~ hair and dirty red petticoats drifted out of the
fog and floated toward the coach.
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