Three days later, in the early morning, Jerry found Andre Albert in the Manor's garden, where the dawn light lay like a thin veil.
"Your Eminence, what are your orders?" Andre Albert's voice carried his usual respect and humility.
"André, the Manor has a basement, doesn't it?"
"A basement? Your Eminence, what do you need a basement for?" Andre Albert looked puzzled. "You don't have to use a Love Potion in an enclosed space. Besides, if you're bored, I can sneak you into a private ball next time—the kind where everyone wears masks!"
"Get lost!" Jerry snapped indignantly. What a joke. With a face like his, did he need a Love Potion?
"Never mind why." Jerry glared at André. "Also, find me a few prisoners on death row and lock them in the basement. They don't have to be wizards. Muggles will do."
Andre Albert nodded vigorously. He hadn't expected someone so young to have such twisted tastes! Death-row prisoners, in a basement—his preferences were certainly unusual.
André didn't dare ask any more questions. Knowing too many of his superior's secrets wasn't safe. As long as Jerry didn't ask him to find men for him!
He had barely stepped out of the garden when Catherine hurried in.
"Your Eminence, urgent news! We've just received intelligence that the Third Bishop has left New York and returned to headquarters!" Catherine rushed into the garden, clutching a newly arrived intelligence report.
"Left?" Jerry frowned at the news, his voice filled with confusion and doubt. "Ezekiel just left like that? Would he really be content to let this end without getting to the bottom of what happened in New York?" He paused, then asked, "What about Aldrich Mammon? Is he still alive?"
"Yes, Your Eminence. After the Third Bishop vented his fury like a