From Graham's shop, Martin made his way back to the park to share his findings with Eliza and Will. Martin shared Graham's reaction and admitted it wasn't much to go on in terms of guilt.

  "Did your boys pick up any more information about Graham?" Martin asked.

  “Other than needing to eat more than others on account of his size," Will said, "he doesn’t seem to have any vices. He doesn’t drink, he doesn’t play dice or cards, he doesn’t even eat sweets.”

  “That can’t be right.” Martin cut in. “He had a bag of sweets on his ledger when I walked in.”

  “Really? My boys must have missed that. What did he have?”

  “Uh, I think it was a bag of licorice.”

  “Licorice is Lily’s favorite.” Eliza chipped in.

  “There’s one more bit of evidence!” Will exclaimed.

  Martin felt like he had to curtail this crusade before it got too far out of hand.

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he said. “We have some body language from a man who’s clearly a bit off, the fact that he eats enough for two, and a bag of licorice, the favorite sweet of countless girls from here to the coast.”

  Will’s face fell a little.

  Over the next few days, Will’s boys continued their watch of the chandler, with slowly waning enthusiasm. Lily revisited the police office to plead for a formal search to be enacted, but received the same level of disinterest she had received before. Martin weighed bringing the matter to Jacques, but he could envision no other reaction than another lecture about him sticking his nose into things that didn’t concern him. As the days went by, he was slowly nearing the point he would consider bringing it up. However, a few days before that, Will came to him with one of his boys.

  "Martin, this is Oliver," Will said, gesturing to a boy slightly smaller than himself, with a head of messy red hair and a grin nearly equal to Will's own. "He's been taking the lead on watching Little Graham. He's got a plan."

  "Let's hear it," Martin said simply.

  “Listen,” Oliver said, “Graham goes to the grocers every Thursday night just before they close. He’s gone for about 30 minutes. In that time, Will or I can easily climb up the back wall and into the second-story window, check the place out, and be gone long before he gets back. He’ll never know we were there.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” Martin replied.

  “Then keep watch for us. If you stand on the corner and he comes back early, make some sound so we know to get out.”

  Martin deliberated for a moment, wondering again if he should involve Jacques and the Faceless men, before reluctantly giving his consent.

  “Alright. If I see him come back, I’ll whistle a bit of the national anthem.”

  Will and Oliver both pumped their fists in excitement before Martin’s glare brought them back to reality of the situation.

  “This isn’t a game, boys. What you’re talking about doing is a crime at best, and what you might find in there… Well, let’s just hope you don't.”

  “Right. Sorry, Martin.”

  “Sorry,” Will echoed his friend, looking suitably abashed for a moment before lifting his head back up, “we’ve only got about an hour before Graham will close up shop and head to the grocers. We'd better get a move on now if we want to catch him.”

  They sent Eliza back to the dorm where she stayed with some of the other matchstick girls, and then Will, Martin, and Oliver made their way over to Graham’s shop. On the way there, Martin told them about a certain beggar on the street corner in the market. He didn’t detail his connection to the Faceless Men, but instructed them to go there if things went awry and to ask for a man named Jacques. After a quick deliberation and a quick game of rock, scissors, paper, it was decided that Will would enter the shop, and Oliver would watch at the grocer's.

  Martin and Will took positions on a street corner across from the shop, while Oliver went to the local grocer's to observe there. A short while later, Graham flipped the sign in the front window from Open to Closed. The windows, which had been open all day to air out the smell of tallow, were closed and locked one by one, leaving just a single window up on the second floor. While it was unlikely anyone would break into a Chandler shop in broad daylight, no one was foolish enough to leave everything open at night, especially these days.

  When he finished closing up shop, Graham left the building and locked the front door, an empty bag in his hand. He took a quick look around and then cast one last look up at the second floor before making his way in the direction of the grocers.

  Martin and Will waited a moment for him to get out of sight.

  “Are you sure you can climb that?” Martin asked. Looking once more at the single open window located in the back of the house, away from much to climb up.

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  Will feigned a hurt look. “I’m insulted you would ask. There’s not a window in Alderbridge that I can’t get to.”

  “Then go. We don’t have much time.”

  “Aye aye.”

  Will walked quickly across the street, doing his best to look nonchalant while Martin kept watch. Will slipped into the alley between Graham’s shop and the adjacent tea shop. He did a couple of quick stretches and then scrambled up the wall, using the somewhat irregular bricks and lodging his back against the adjacent building to make his way slowly up to the second story. After a few minutes, he had reached the window and managed to pull himself up and roll inside the building. He stuck his head out a moment later to flash Martin a thumbs-up and then disappeared inside again.

  Martin kept his eyes on the street, looking for anyone who might have seen Will’s entrance, but the few people out at this time kept their heads down, worn down by the day’s work and in a hurry to get home. Satisfied Will hadn’t been observed, he shifted his focus to the street Graham had gone down, waiting for his return. They should have plenty of time, he thought, but as soon as he let that thought run through his mind, he saw an enormous man turn the corner heading toward the shop. His bag was still empty, and his steps were heavy and quick. He seemed slightly annoyed as he hurried back toward the shop.

  Martin didn’t hesitate and turned around to cross in front of the shop, beginning to whistle the national anthem as loud as he could. It was horrendously off-key, but he hoped it was recognizable enough to get Will out of there, and quickly. He didn’t look back at Graham and kept moving, whistling until he rounded the corner and then breaking into a sprint around the block to circle the house from the other direction. He arrived a moment later to see the door of the shop closing. He ran over to get a look at the window, but didn’t see anyone coming out.

  “Come on, Will,” he muttered to himself. He slowly approached the house, trying to keep an eye on both the front door and the window. Just as he was debating whether to knock on the door, he heard a crash come from upstairs. He bolted to the door and tried the lock, finding it mercifully still unlocked. He pulled open the door and ran inside. He couldn’t see anyone in the storefront, so he ran under the curtain near the back and found himself in a narrow hallway. There was a staircase leading up and another curtained doorway leading to what he assumed was the workshop. He followed the noise and went up the stairs.

  Martin arrived at the landing and paused. Hearing a scuffling coming from the right, he turned right and slowly approached a room at the back of the house. The door was left slightly ajar, and he peered through the opening. It was hard to see much other than Graham’s back, shifting back and forth as if to block someone from leaving. Graham shifted left suddenly, and Martin got a quick glimpse of Will, on the other side of a table, trying to duck around.

  “You don’t need to do this, Graham.” Will was saying. “Just let us go, and we won’t say anything.”

  “No. You can’t leave.” Graham said in response, his voice deadly serious.

  Deciding he had heard enough, Martin crept slowly closer to the door, and with a quick couple of controlled breaths, charged into the room, slamming the door open and crashing right into Graham’s back. Martin's momentum carried both men forward, and Graham crashed into a table, breaking it almost immediately and carrying both of them down to the hard floor.

  Graham moaned in pain and surprise. Martin picked himself up quickly and yelled at Will to run.

  “Lily,” was all Will said, running over to the corner where Lily was sitting, her hands tied and her mouth covered with a muffler. Will started to fuss with the rope around her hands, but Martin ran over and picked Lily up, tossing her over his shoulder.

  “No time,” he said. “Go on.”

  Will fled down the stairs first with Martin right behind him. He could hear Graham stumble to his feet and begin pursuit. Will reached the bottom of the stairs and turned left, running through the curtain.

  “Wait, Will—” Martin started to say, but it was too late as a loud crashing sound rang out on the other side of the curtain. Biting down a curse word, Martin slowed slightly and made his way through the same doorway.

  As he had guessed, this was the way into the workshop. Will had come crashing through and made contact with a row of metal trays used to catch the dripping tallow. They had been left out to dry after being cleaned, and Will’s momentum sent them flying across the workshop. Will had stopped and was rubbing his side where he had caught the heavy trays.

  “Come on,” Martin said, grabbing Will by the arm and moving him further into the workshop. He moved Lily off his shoulder and into Will’s arms, turning around to face Graham right as he came through the curtain to the workshop.

  “There’s no other way out of here,” Graham said, his breath coming in heavy gasps. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

  “You can’t keep us here forever, Graham. Let us go, and this doesn’t need to get to the police.” Martin kept his voice calm as he looked around the room. He wanted to avoid drawing his Faceless Dagger if at all possible and was hoping to find a less violent way to resolve the situation.

  “I can if it means saving my shop.”

  “Saving your shop? What are you talking about?”

  “I need Lily for the lease.” Graham’s voice continued to shake from breathlessness.

  “Graham, you’re not making any sense. Let’s calm down and discuss this.”

  “We can… discuss later,” Graham said. Inching forward and bringing his hands up in a crude approximation of a boxing stance.

  “Don’t do this, Graham,” Martin said, resigning himself to a fight.

  Graham didn’t respond, but instead lunged forward, throwing his right hand forward in a punch. Martin suddenly grabbed one of the heavy metal trays and brought it up to block the punch. Graham’s fist connected with a sickening crack, leaving a dent in the center of the pan and shaking through Martin’s arms, but the effect on Graham himself was far more severe. He gave out a cry of pain and quickly brought his hand back to his body, slinking down to the ground like a wounded animal. Martin raised the tray with both hands, ready to bring it down on Graham’s head, when a woman’s voice suddenly called out.

  “Stop. Please stop.”

  Martin paused, bringing the tray to a stop inches from Graham. He glanced behind him, unwilling to turn completely away from Graham, to see that Will had helped Lily down and removed the gag. She stood uneasily on her feet, tears in her eyes, not just of fear, but of concern. She walked past Martin and knelt next to Graham. She couldn’t fully embrace him with her arms still tied, but she did her best to stroke his arm in a comforting manner.

  “Oh, you poor fool,” she said. “You poor little fool.”

  Martin made eye contact with Will, who gave him a look that was just as confused as his own. He lowered the tray and put it down on the table.

  Lily looked back at them. “I’m not sure who you are, but will one of you please untie me?”