"Excuse me, is everything alright?"

A Sharp-Eyed Constable squints suspiciously at her. "Who wants to know?"

"Well you see sir, it's just that the lady that lives here, the Effulgent Evangeline, she was supposed to sing at Mahogany Hall, but she never showed up, so they sent me to come see what was going on sir."

He nods, mollified. "Well, she's nowhere to be found, I'm afraid. Her home was broken into a few hours ago, and her neighbors haven't seen her in days." His voice lowers. "It's odd - the place was obviously searched, but there were moon-pearls all over the floor, like they weren't what the intruder was looking for. Damned queer business."

Well. 

That certainly lends credence to that happenstance scrap of gossip, doesn't it. 

"How very strange! I do hope she's alright." 

"Sure as we all do, miss."

The Constables appear to be wrapping up their investigation and trickling away from the house. The Sharp-Eyed Constable goes with them.

To some, it would be awfully tempting to check inside and see if they missed anything.

What, there are some who wouldn't? 

The Singer's apartment is small and rather cramped - there's a mattress on the floor, a desk with sliding drawers, and a rod for hanging outfits. The constables very considerately cleaned up the moon-pearls the Sharp-Eyed Constable mentioned. They didn't clean up anything else.

Ah-huh. 

She goes through the drawers, and, if that turns up nothing, the pockets of the outfits. 

The drawers are empty, as are the pockets.

While she's checking the pocket of a dress that ended up under the desk somehow, though, she might observe the sound of something fluttering in the breeze from the open window, directly above her head. It's a business card, fastened to the underside of the desk with a metal tack.

Well, well. 

She unpins the business card and examines it. 

The contact information is for one William Butterfield, the Sensible Under-Secretary - an agent of Mr. Fires. 

Ah-ha. 

Does the contact information include an address?

It includes a home address and an office address!

On the back, it also has st dunstans churchyard plot 3c written in deep-etched pencil.

Well that's concerning. 

First she's going to head back to Mahogany Hall to report to the mousy guy what happened (omitting the part where she searched the Fading Music-Hall Singer's stuff) and collect her courier's fee. Then she's going to head to the home address on the card to scope the place out. 

The place is fairly nice, in a fairly nice neighborhood; the kind of place where the residents have servants, but the servants don't have servants of their own. He lives alone, or at least there's no evidence of a spouse or children.

Hmm.

She purchases the cheapest meal she can get nearby and sets to discreetly watching the place as she eats. 

As she eats her rat kebab (which is honestly pretty good), the Sensible Under-Secretary leaves his house. He moves quickly through the streets, making a beeline for Spite.

She follows him, still gnawing on the remnants of her rat kebab. 

He doesn't seem to notice he's being tailed, or even really consider it. Once he's in Spite, he heads for the spire of St. Dunstan's Church, but instead of going in, he heads through the lychgate into the graveyard.

She creeps in after him. Does he head for the grave written on the card?

He heads for section 3c, yes, but he doesn't go to any of the marked graves - instead, he ends up at an unmarked mound of dirt.

It's a very small patch of dirt. A foot or so in length, less than that in width.

Apparently the Mountain isn't the only one whose children she has to worry about. 

Fuck this sneaking around bullshit. 

She steps out. "Is that a baby, is that your baby, do you know anything about the whereabouts of the Fading Music-Hall Singer, and do you know anything about a diamond the size of a cow that may or may not be a child of the Mountain of Light of the Elder Continent."

He looks up, his eyes red-rimmed. "I- what? Who are you?"