“Yes. You must be Mr. Norris.”

The man tipped his hat. Short and stout, with powerful shoulders and a thick neck, he had the build of a boxer. “Indeed, sir. I be Norris.”

Robert looked at the house across from them. “This one, I presume?”

“Aye, sir. As ye requested a month ago, we’ve been watchin’ George Aniston, and here’s where he’s landed.”

“And the child?”

“That was a mite trickier. We found no evidence of a child until last night.”

“What did you discover?”

Mr. Norris grinned, revealing several missing teeth, and laid a finger beside his nose. “We found the tell, guv’nor. Laundry.”

“Laundry? Ah, you mean for the child.”

“Aye. I pretended to be lookin’ fer me lost dog, and struck up a conversation with the maid as she was hanging the laundry in the back. In the bottom o’ the basket was a night rail, several gowns, things as a small girl might wear.”

Robert nodded and wondered if Moira had already sent word to Aniston that she wished to meet him. It was difficult to tell what Moira had or hadn’t done.

She hadn’t trusted him enough to include him. That stung, but Robert accepted it. It would take a lot to completely gain Moira’s trust. And while he’d made significant inroads over the last three weeks, it would take several months, if not years, before she completely let down her guard. She’d had it up too long, and the price of this was too dear for her to simply turn it over to him.

But he was the best person to deal with Aniston. Moira’s emotional attachment to Rowena made them both more vulnerable, and now was not the time for vulnerability of any kind.

He turned to the Bow Street Runner. “Tell me everything you’ve found out. Aniston’s habits, the number of men in his employ, and where you think he might be keeping the child.”

Mr. Norris began to rattle off an impressive amount of information, reaching into his coat pocket for a map of the house with Aniston’s bedchamber and all entrances clearly marked. “There are twenty-two servants in all, three of them naught but ruffians, and a harsh lookin’ woman who acts as a nurse. Those, he keeps with the child.”

I can handle three. “Where does he keep her?”

“The attic rooms, sir.” Mr. Norris’s stubby finger poked the map. “This set of steps leads to the attic. I’m sure she’s there, fer there were no lamps lit in that part of the house before, and now they’re ablaze.”

“Good.” Robert examined the map, then folded and tucked it away. “Thank you for the information.”

“Indeed, sir. The little girl . . . she looked scared. I’ve a daughter of me own.” The man’s clear eyes met Robert’s. “Ye wouldn’t be wishin’ fer some help, would ye? I’ve not had a good brawl in a month and I’m due fer one.”

“I could use a diversion. Something to set the place in an uproar and draw attention to the lower floors.”