Chapter 91

THE CHESTER constabulary was newer than Putnam's and brighter, with its great wide windows and gleaming wooden floors rather than the bulky stone and stale surroundings Dallin had always associated with the law. He'd expected glares and derisive gestures when he was brought in--lawmen didn't generally take kindly to one of their ranks switching sides, and there was the mess with the gate guard, after all--but he was largely ignored, except for the few whose services were required to get him through the door and into an interrogation room.

Dallin wasn't taken to a desk to be processed by a bored minion, and he wasn't formally apprised of the charges against him. He was led straight down into the gaslit basement of the place, the same stone as the city's walls, and into a small dank room with no windows, merely a plain table bolted to the floor and two wooden chairs. Stark and dim and dusty.