"Aston Dartmoor," I said.
"You're sure?" Mr. Orange pressured. "That was who he said he worked for?"
"I'm sure," I replied. "It wasn't just some coincidence that he was there, either. It wasn't like he was a random passer-by. He was consciously watching the house, and moved in after I tried to bring Farleigh back."
"Did you catch his name?"
"I think so," I said with a slow nod. "A mare showed up. She had a purple mane and seemed really rich. She spoke as if the property belonged to her."
"That would be Ambrosia Clemency," Mr. Orange nodded. "She's Cross' set of rigged dice."
"His set of 'rigged dice'?"
"He rolls her out whenever he takes a gamble, but it always seems to pay off," he sighed. "She's his mistress, or lover, or whatever you want to call it."
I recognised her, sort of. I had seen her once before months ago, when I had encountered Mr. Cross on a train to Manehattan. She had been with him, and now I thought it odd, because I had come to learn that she wasn't his wife despite