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‘Golly,’ I said.

‘That’s right!’ he snapped, practically spitting. ‘This city’s built on the backs of our labours, Stephen, but we’ve no means or method to pool our resources to fight for our common interests. Imagine how much we could help one another, if we only tried!’

I found myself leaning away from him as he spoke. It wasn’t just that he was getting angrier and angrier. Demanding better hours, better pay, fairer treatment … of course it was right. But in a place like London, where there are twenty other servants ready to take your job at the drop of a hat, it was madness. No servant in their right mind would risk their job by saying that they wanted more. I could barely bring myself to ask Miss Decima for a week’s advance on my wages.

‘Which brings me to my point,’ said Peter, suddenly cheerful again in a flash. ‘I’m trying to approach all the manservants in the area so that we can unionize. A way to open up communications between men and unite for our common cause.’

He handed me a leaflet: KENSINGTON MANSERVANTS, FOOTMEN AND PORTERS’ UNION.

‘First meeting tonight at the Goat – just down the road,’ he said excitedly. ‘There’ll be ten of us, I reckon – eleven, with you. See you there, right?’

I grimaced. I really didn’t have time for this. I had to solve a murder in five days. Now that I thought about it, the chances of me still getting the evening off were even less likely than Miss Decima taking up needlework. But Peter had saved my life. ‘Sure. I’ll see what I can do.’

Peter beamed. ‘Glad to hear it, Stephen!’ He nodded at the houses over the road. ‘So – which one’s yours?’

I pointed. ‘That one – second floor.’

‘Number 89! We’re neighbours. Say – you’re not with that mad old woman who keeps screaming about eggs, are you?’

‘No,’ I replied, far too quickly.

Peter snorted. ‘Christ! Some poor sap’s got their work cut out for them with her, eh?’

‘Ha, ha,’ I said, but it was a hollow laugh, because I’d just realized that I could hear a tiny bell ringing in the distance.

‘That’s employers for you,’ Peter growled. ‘What gives some old baggage the right to do that, eh? Class entitlement it is, pure and simple. And we act like there’s no alternative!’

‘Yeah, no alternative, no,’ I said, as the ringing grew louder. She had opened the window.

‘That’s what I want to fix with the meeting tonight. If we establish a set of common … you all right, mate? You’re looking awful peaky.’

She was smashing the bell against the windowsill like a hammer. ‘Well, best be off! Nice to meet you!’

Peter looked panicked for a moment. ‘The Goat, six o’clock? You’ll be there?’

‘Yep!’ I said, scampering away. ‘I’ll be there!’

Peter beamed with triumph. ‘Great stuff! I knew I could count on you, Stephen! Together we’re stronger!’

He could say that all he wanted. He didn’t have thirty-seconds to get upstairs before Miss Decima threw a bell at his head.

17

Sunday, 18 June, 2.51 p.m.

I made it to the study just as Miss Decima had given up ringing the bell, because it was now flattened beyond all recognition. Her face was an absolute thunderclap.

‘About bloody time!’ she muttered. ‘I am trying to solve a murder case, and you’re standing outside gabbing away with some footman!’

She’d been watching us, then. I couldn’t help but detect a hint of jealousy. ‘His name’s Peter, Miss Decima. He’s Chief Constable Cartwright’s footman – the one who spoke up for me last night. He invited me to this.’

I handed over the union leaflet. She scanned it with a single look and nodded. ‘Splendid! You shall go to that meeting, Stephen, and use it as an opportunity to question him.’

I frowned. ‘Why?’

‘Because he’s a suspect. He’s the only other person on the Gore who saw anything and, for that matter, the only person who was close enough to commit the murder. I see no reason why he couldn’t have killed Watts and then retreated to his quarters before you appeared. Find out everything that you can about him, please.’

I bristled. It was typical of Miss Decima to suspect servants before she suspected anyone else. ‘If he took the time to vouch for me, Miss Decima, I don’t see how –’