“Caleb Finch, an enquiry agent, has traced at least six cases,” I said. “The pattern is too exact to be coincidence. Each girl was at her place of employment, carrying out her usual duties. Each stepped out on some routine errand—a delivery, a collection, fetching supplies, running a message—and never returned. None were seen again.”
“I know of Caleb Finch,” Linwood said pleasantly. “He is a capable investigator.” A faint, derisive smile touched his mouth. “But he has a tendency toward conjecture.”
I leaned forward then, resting my forearms on the desk. “Then perhaps conjecture is what your men require,” I said, my voice rising, “since they have shown no inclination to act at all.”
Color touched his cheeks. “With respect, Your Grace, we act when there is cause. If the employers fail to provide sufficient detail, the matter cannot proceed.”
I sat back and regarded him steadily, giving him time to hear his own words. “Would you say the same if the missing were the daughters of peers?”
A faint sheen of sweat formed above his upper lip. “Naturally not. Circumstances differ.”
“In fact,” I said, my gaze steady on him, “one such daughter has already suffered the same fate.”
His head lifted sharply. “A lady of rank? Who?”
“I am not at liberty to disclose it,” I replied. “Only to say that it occurred. The family has chosen silence—for now. But when the truth emerges, every unanswered report concerning the missing women will be closely scrutinized.”
Linwood reached for his handkerchief to blot the sweat with a touch more haste than necessary. “If this is true, Your Grace, it is a grave matter.”
“It is true,” I said. “And it is indeed grave. The methods of disappearance are identical. A young woman walked out of the house she called home and vanished into silence.”
Linwood’s gaze slid away from me, moving instead to the papers on his desk, the window beyond, the clock upon the mantel—as though one of them might offer a solution he had not yet considered.
“If the cases are connected,” he said at last, choosing his words with care, “we shall determine it. But we must proceed carefully.”
I scoffed. “Carefully is but a euphemism for slowly,” I said. “And slowly means another girl will be lost.”
Silence stretched between us. The faint tick of the clock on the mantel marked each passing second, each one tightening the space in which he sat.
At length, Linwood exhaled, the sound weary and resigned. He met my gaze again, whatever resistance he had been clinging to finally spent. “Very well. What precisely do you require of me?”
I had him.
“Access to your records,” I said. “Missing-person reports from the past six months involving young females who found employment through the efforts of charitable organizations. I also wish to know what action was taken in response to each report.”
He frowned. “Those are not public documents.”
He believed that would stop me. He was mistaken. “I did not ask as a member of the public. I ask as a peer who approves your budget.”
For a moment, he said nothing. Then his shoulders sagged almost imperceptibly. He had no more cards to play, and he knew it.
“You will have them,” he said. “But it will take some time.”
Not bloody likely. “I want them by tomorrow evening. That should provide the Yard with enough time.”
He inclined his head in reluctant acknowledgment. “Very good, Your Grace.”
We shook hands, and I made my way out of his office.
Outside, the air carried the warmth of the day, touched by the faint scent of horseflesh and pavement. I paused at the top of the steps and drew a steadying breath before descending to my waiting carriage.
“Steele House,” I ordered my coachman.
The ride to Grosvenor Square passed in a haze of thoughts about the unresolved matters. It was not only theCommissioner’s weak excuses that troubled me, but the truth beneath them. They had written reports, set them aside, and had not investigated at all. All those girls vanished while the Yard chose inaction over enquiry.
Once I arrived home, I intended to draft a note to Lady Rosalynd at once about the meeting. But when Milford admitted me, he handed me two pieces of correspondence. One was from Finch. The other bore Rosalynd’s hand.
I moved to my study and opened Finch’s letter first.
