“John Tompkins.” The man offered neither hand nor bow. “I have a few questions to put to you, sir, if you don’t mind.”
“And if I do?”
“Well, sir”—his eyes glinted—“then I might think you had something to hide. And we wouldn’t want that, would we?”
Nathaniel crossed his arms. “I have nothing to hide, personally, but nor do I want my family’s business bandied about the county. Who sent you?”
“I am not at liberty to say.”
Nathaniel was tempted to refuse to answer the man’s questions but tried another tack. “A pity, for I would be happy to share your employer’s expense. For you see, I too am very interested to learn who shot my brother.”
“You assume that’s why I am here, sir?”
Nathaniel frowned. “My steward told me you were here yesterday asking about it.”
“Ah.” Tompkins nodded his understanding.
Nathaniel regarded him. “Perhaps I might hire you to reveal the name of the person employing you?”
Tompkins grinned. “Ah. That’s a good one, sir. But I’m afraid I’ve got my hands full at present.”
Nathaniel said, “One wonders how the matter came to the attention of someone in London—where I assume whoever hired you lives, you being a Bow Street man.”
The small man regarded him, eyes alight. “Perhaps you ought to consider a career in detection, sir. You have a gift for it.”
Nathaniel shrugged.
“Have you any idea who might have done it?” Tompkins asked.
“What, me do your job for you?” Nathaniel smirked. “Actually, I do have several ideas.”
“Thought you might,” the man said wryly.
Nathaniel had been thinking about what Margaret had told him, but he was not ready to dismiss Saxby as a suspect yet. He said, “I don’t like to malign anyone without proof, but I have heard from several sources that the fight was over a woman.”
“Usually is. Who are these ‘sources,’ if I may ask?”
“A friend of Lewis’s, a housemaid who saw him returning after being out all night, and his own valet.”
“Might that friend be Piers Saxby, sir?”
Nathaniel hesitated, surprised. It had crossed his mind that Saxby might have hired Tompkins, but would the runner name him if he had? In either case, Nathaniel felt no obligation to protect Saxby. “Yes, as a matter of fact, itis.”
Tompkins shrugged. “I have already spoken to Mr. Saxby about... well, several items.”
“Whatitems?”
“Oh, you know,” Tompkins said casually, with a dismissive wave of his hand. “About that brawl between you and your brother in Mayfair, which he witnessed, as did so many shocked ladies and gents. Such threats. Such violence. But then you know all about that, so I won’t bore you.”
Nathaniel gritted his teeth. “If you have spoken to Saxby, then I trust he told you all about his feud with Lewis over one Miss Lyons?”
“Miss Lyons?” The man’s endless brow furrowed. “I don’t recall him mentioning that lady by name. Though several others did enter the conversation, including a Miss Macy.”
Nathaniel stilled. Knowing Tompkins was watching him carefully, he attempted to retain a neutral expression, though inwardly alarm bells sounded.Miss Macy—what has she to do withit?
“Did you and your brother not ‘feud’ over that young lady at one time?”
Is that what he was getting at? Nathaniel wondered. “That was years ago.”
