Arthur’s face changed by maybe half an inch.

A microscopic tightening of the ocular muscles.

A slight parting of the lips.

To anyone else, he looked perfectly calm.

But I’d spent the last five years in hostile territory, learning to read the subtle telemetry of mortal fear in men who were experts at hiding it.

“Evelyn… what exactly have you done?” he asked, his voice suddenly stripped of all its commanding bass.