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pushed his way through the crowd as best he could, but it was no good. He had lost her.
    Peregrine stood near the side of the great cathedral, chin on chest, arms slack, eyes staring at the wet ground a few feet ahead. He had been so intent upon following the woman in the hooded cape that he had failed to realize that he, too, was being followed.

5
    Doubting Thomas
    N ATHANIEL PEREGRINE WANDERED into Jackson Square and sat heavily on a bench. St. Louis Cathedral loomed overhead, an overawing vertical presence against fast-moving gray clouds, like a judge looking down on the accused, prepared to pronounce judgment.
    It was only now that the obvious occurred to him. Peregrine leaned forward and put his face in his hands. Although he had no way to really know, he was possessed with the certainty that the woman he had been following was the porcelain-skinned girl from the night before.
    How could he have been so stupid?
    And, all the more appalling, what if he had caught her?
    How perfectly he remembered what she had said to him.
    I can free you from the pain.
    Except that she hadn’t.
    Somebody sat on the bench beside him. Peregrine jumped as if jolted by an electric current, looking up, expecting it to be her.
    “Sir?”
    “I am too old for a wet nurse, Captain,” Peregrine said to his aide.
    “I’m just looking out for your welfare, sir.”
    “You were following me.”
    “Yes, sir, I was. You went back to the opium den.”
    The set of Peregrine’s jaw softened and he had to look away from O’Rourke. “I feel bad about Yu,” he said, not wanting to confess to his subordinate the fear that he could not escape his need for the poppy’s poison.
    “That Chinaman was no choirboy, sir.”
    “He wasn’t a murderer. He didn’t deserve to hang.”
    “Rough justice is the way of the world, sir. Men don’t always get it right. We have to trust in God for that.”
    “God,” Peregrine said, looking up at the church through narrowing eyes. “Where is God when innocents die?”
    “The fact that we don’t understand His plan doesn’t mean He doesn’t have one for us, sir.”
    “God has abandoned us.”
    “You must not believe that, sir.”
    “Where is God in any of this?” Peregrine jabbed a finger toward a legless beggar across the square. The man, a former Confederate soldier, judging from his tattered jacket, held a tin cup up to passersby, begging for alms.
    “You must not give in to despair, sir. Hold on to the hope that you will once again see your wife and children in heaven.”
    Peregrine felt as if he’d been struck a hard blow in the stomach; the breath caught in his throat, and he began to shake. He would have broken down if Seamus O’Rourke said another word, but the captain said nothing, perhaps thinking he had already said too much.
    “I appreciate your concern, Seamus,” Peregrine said finally. “I’ll be all right. And I don’t need a minder. General Butler has ordered all the hop houses in New Orleans closed, and I doubt there is a pipe to be found in the city. Butler is nothing if not efficient when it comes to exercising authority over the civilian population.”
    “Is there anything I can do to help, sir?”
    “Do you have a supply of tar opium?”
    O’Rourke’s expression was shocked until he realized Peregrine was joking.
    “The only thing that will help me is getting back into the fight, Seamus. A man can’t think about his troubles looking down the throat of a rebel battery.”
    “Are you acquainted with Colonel Joseph Stroyan? He’s on Butler’s staff and an old mate of mine.”
    “Irish?”
    “He’s as Irish as Paddy’s goat, sir. Joey knows where General Butler keeps his skeletons hidden—or as I should say, where Spoons keeps the spoons hidden, if I may be so bold. He might be able to help expedite your transfer papers, sir.”
    “Don’t get yourself into trouble on my account, Seamus.”
    “Not to worry, sir. Joey is as smooth as good whiskey. He’s a lad who