The carriage stopped in front of the Scotland Yard police station. Charlotte quickly got out and strode inside. A security guard at the gate tried to stop her, but Lestrade's orders came through:
"Let her in."
Unimpeded, Charlotte reached the interrogation room, where, thanks to Lestrade's arrangement, she saw the thief for the first time—a man with broken limbs who'd been knocked out by Russell.
Charlotte folded her arms and legs and sat behind the glass. Russell sat on the opposite side with pen and paper passed to him by Lestrade.
"Name," Charlotte's voice rang out.
Immediately, Charles began trembling violently. He didn't answer, his lips trembling as if still trapped in last night's incomprehensible nightmare.
"She's asking your name," Charlotte repeated.
Still, Charles didn't answer. He only glanced up at Russell behind Charlotte, staring at him like he was some kind of monster.
"His face… His face is melting…"
He muttered like a lunatic, repeating the same phrase over and over. "Face… melting…"
Russell paused, spinning his pen. Did this guy recognize him?
"He doesn't seem very smart. Want to try someone else?" he suggested.
"Just wait a bit longer," Charlotte shook her head, keeping her eyes on the man behind the glass.
"Charles Brown. Former army corporal. Discharged for alcoholism and fighting. That's you."
She gave him direct information. "One more question: Besides your gang, who else did you meet last night? Who was the man that took you all down?"
Charles, still struggling, kept repeating his mad phrase until Charlotte spoke again.
"It was Moriarty, wasn't it?"
The moment she uttered the name, Charles's resistance suddenly ceased, and the interrogation room fell deathly silent. Then, a scream of pure terror shattered the silence.
"Ahhh—!!" Charles leaped from his chair but was quickly restrained again.
[From Charles: Fear, Malice Points +50]
"..." Russell did his best to keep his expression calm.
"That man is a demon! A devil!!" Charles shouted, "Don't come near me! Stay away!!"
Charlotte's expression darkened. She waved her hand, signaling Lestrade to remove Charles and bring in someone else.
The next was Jack—the man whose teeth Russell had knocked out. His mental state was better, but when he looked through the one-way glass, fear still lingered in his eyes.
"Name."
"Jack Harris," he answered this time.
"Who sent you there last night?" Charlotte asked.
"The Professor," Jack rasped.
"'Professor?'" Charlotte repeated. "A codename?"
"Yes," Jack nodded hoarsely. "That's all we know him as. No one knows his real name."
"What does he look like?"
"No one's ever seen him."
Charlotte fell silent, then continued, "Tell us every detail about your contact with him."
Jack hesitated, but finally chose to cooperate. Over thirty minutes, he revealed everything about the Professor—from the first sudden letter five days ago to the gradually improving plan sent each day.
"Where are the letters?"
"They're burned," Jack said, "Boss made us burn them."
"You trust him that much?"
"You don't understand what the Professor stands for," Jack said reverently. "Not a single flaw in his plan. Every move, every moment, perfectly arranged. If... if that other man hadn't suddenly appeared—"
"Which man?" Charlotte caught the key point immediately.
"Moriarty," Jack paused before saying the name.
"What did he do?" Charlotte pressed.
"He was like a ghost…" Jack's eyes seemed to wander, lost in memory. "A cloud of smoke, and then suddenly he was right there among us… No, behind us… No, everywhere! You couldn't see him, but you could feel he was there."
"What do you mean?" Charlotte frowned. "Could he clone himself?"
"I don't know... But he'd appear in places we never expected!" Jack shook his head, emotions surging up.
Charlotte listened in silence.
In the observation room, Russell absent-mindedly drew lines of smoke on his paper with a pen.
"How many of you were there?" Charlotte asked.
"Five of us, six if you count Richard," Jack answered.
"Richard?"
"He's the spy," Jack gritted out. "The security guard at the bank last night."
"You six were all beaten up by Moriarty?" There was obvious sarcasm in Charlotte's tone.
Jack's face turned purple-red, but he couldn't deny it. "He's... not human."
After a long pause, he finally squeezed out the words, gritting his teeth.
"Then what is he?"
"He's a monster."
[From Jack: Fear, Malice Points +50]
Third, fourth... Patiently, Charlotte gathered fragmented information from each thief about both the Professor and Moriarty. In her mind, the image of the Professor gradually clarified.
A mastermind in the shadows. Never showing his face, only giving instructions via letters, looking down at all the pieces on the chessboard like a god on high. Perfect, pure, wise—a man who treats crime as art. Someone very much like herself.
As for Moriarty, his image only grew more confusing and contradictory. According to the suspects' testimony, Charlotte summarized his characteristics: his face melts, he summons smoke, he can clone himself, is incredibly fast, and his combat skills are far above the ordinary. None of these fragmentary, emotionally charged descriptions fit together; they contradicted one another and were full of surreal elements.
It was as if the being who appeared in that underground vault wasn't a man at all, but a demon, a ghost, a monster, an army of lunatics.
This Moriarty is like a ghost.
Charlotte frowned. For now, she decided to ignore the mysterious thief and focus on the Professor. At least the Professor seemed like a normal human being.
"Why did the Professor send you to attack Lloyds Bank?" Charlotte looked across the glass at the man.
"What?" The man frowned. "How should I know? The Professor must have his own reasons."
"No, think carefully," Charlotte urged, locking eyes with him. "His first move after returning to power wasn't to blow up Parliament, commit murder or arson, or run smuggling. He told you specifically to attack the underground vault. Why?"
"Uh…" The man fell silent, thinking.
"Other than the plan, did he order anything else?" Charlotte continued pressing.
After thinking, the man finally regained his senses. "Now that you mention it, he did tell us to open the warehouse door and open one of the safes!"
"Which one?" Charlotte pressed.
"No… I don't know. That wasn't written in the letter. He just gave us the password."
"What was the password?"
"I can't remember. I wasn't the one who opened the lock."
"So who was responsible for unlocking the door?"
"Charles Brown."