The notebook of the Antigonus family was in the room across from the kidnappers!
Although it was a coincidence, Klein believed his senses were not wrong.
He immediately rolled out of bed and stripped off his old sleeping clothes in a few motions.
He grabbed the white shirt beside him, put it on, and quickly buttoned it from top to bottom.
One, two, three... Suddenly he noticed that a button was "missing" and that the left and right sides seemed asymmetrical.
Looking closely, Klein realized he had misaligned the buttons from the very start, causing the shirt to go askew.
He shook his head in frustration, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled, using some meditation techniques to regain a certain calm.
Dressed in the white shirt and black trousers, he managed to calmly put on the underarm holster, took out the revolver hidden under the soft pillow, and placed it inside.
Forgetting about a necktie, he donned his suit jacket, took his hat in one hand and his cane in the other, and walked to the door.
Putting on the half-silk top hat, Klein gently turned the handle, opened the door, and entered the hallway.
Carefully closing the bedroom door behind him, he went down the stairs almost silently like a thief, leaving two lines on paper with the pen and paper in the living room, stating that he had forgotten to mention last night that he had business at the company and needed to arrive early today.
Stepping out the front door, Klein immediately felt a refreshing cool breeze, and he calmed down completely.
The street before him was dim and quiet, with no pedestrians, only the gentle glow of gas lamps.
Klein took his pocket watch from his inner pocket, opened it with a click, and found that it was just six o'clock. The crimson moonlight had not yet fully faded, but there was already a hint of brightness at the edge of the sky.
He was about to find an expensive hired carriage when he suddenly saw a two-horse, four-wheeled trackless public carriage approaching.
"So early for a public carriage?" Klein was slightly surprised, walked over, and hailed it to stop.
"Good morning, sir." The coachman skillfully stopped the horses.
The conductor sitting beside him, responsible for collecting fares, covered his mouth with his hand and yawned.
"To Zouteland Street," Klein said, pulling out two pennies and four halfpennies from his trouser pocket.
"Fourpence," the conductor replied without hesitation.
Handing over the fare, Klein boarded the carriage, only to find it empty—no other passengers—and in the dimness it felt distinctly cold and deserted.
"You're the first," the coachman said with a smile.
The two brown horses began to walk, moving relatively briskly.
"To be honest, I didn't expect a public carriage to be running so early," Klein said casually as he sat near the coachman, trying to distract himself and relieve his inner tension.
The coachman said with self-deprecation:
"Six in the morning to nine in the evening, yet my weekly salary is only one pound."
"No rest days?" Klein asked in surprise.
"One day off per week on rotation," the coachman's tone became heavy.
The conductor added:
"We work from six in the morning to eleven in the morning, then go to lunch, take a nap, and after dinner, that is, at six in the evening, we replace our colleagues... Even if we don't need rest, the two horses do."
"It wasn't like this before. It was only after some coachmen were too tired and made unforgivable mistakes, causing the horses to run wild and the carriage to overturn, that this rotation was implemented... Those vampires couldn't have suddenly become kind!" the coachman sneered.
In the morning light, the public carriage headed toward Zouteland Street, picking up only seven or eight passengers along the way.
After relaxing a bit, Klein stopped talking, closed his eyes, and went through the events of the previous day frame by frame to see if he had missed anything.
When the sun had fully risen and the sky was truly bright, the public carriage arrived at Zouteland Street.
Klein, holding his hat with his left hand, almost jumped off the carriage.
He quickly entered 36 Zouteland Street and climbed the stairs to the Blackthorn Security Company.
At this time, the door was closed, not yet open.
Klein took a key ring from his belt, found the brass-colored key, inserted it into the lock, and turned it with a click.
He pushed the door forward, letting it swing open slowly, and saw the dark-haired, green-eyed Leonard Mitchell sniffing a recently popular cigarette.
"In fact, I prefer cigars... You look anxious?" the poet-like Nighthawk asked casually.
"Where's the captain?" Klein asked instead of answering.
Leonard pointed to the partition:
"In his office. As an Extraordinary promoted from a 'Sleepless,' he only needs to rest for two hours during the day. I think the factory owners and bankers would love that potion."
Klein nodded, quickly passed through the partition, and saw Dunn Smith standing at the entrance to his office, having already opened the door.