know, we may still! How can we be sure they’ve all been kidnapped? Have we seen their raided loops with our own eyes? What if the ymbrynes’ phones were simply … disconnected?”
“
Even Olive, eternally optimistic Olive, shook her head at that.
“Then what do you suggest, Millard?” said Emma. “That we tour London’s loops and hope to find someone still at home? And what would you say the odds are that the corrupted,
“I think we’d have a better chance of surviving the night if we spent it playing Russian roulette,” said Enoch.
“All I mean,” Millard said, “is that we have no
“What more proof do you want?” said Emma. “Pools of blood? A pile of plucked ymbryne feathers? Miss Avocet told us the corrupted assault began here weeks ago. Miss Wren clearly believed that all of London’s ymbrynes had been kidnapped—do you know better than Miss Wren, an ymbryne herself? And now we’re here, and none of the loops are answering their telephones. So please, tell me why going loop to loop would be anything other than a suicidally dangerous waste of time.”
“Wait a minute—that’s it!” Millard exclaimed. “What about Miss Wren?”
“What about her?” said Emma.
“Don’t you remember what the dog told us? Miss Wren came to London a few days ago, when she heard that her sister ymbrynes had been kidnapped.”
“So?”
“What if she’s still here?”
“Then she’s probably been captured by now!” said Enoch.
“And if she hasn’t?” Millard’s voice was bright with hope.
“She could help Miss Peregrine—and then we wouldn’t have to go anywhere
“And how would you suggest we find her?” Enoch said shrilly.
“Shout her name from the rooftops? This isn’t Cairnholm; it’s a city of millions!”
“Her pigeons,” said Millard.
“Come again?”
“It was Miss Wren’s peculiar pigeons who told her where the ymbrynes had been taken. If they knew where
