Once returned to their homes, situated within ten miles of each other, the two men could not entirely avoid one another. Hugh maintained a cool, polite demeanour when meeting Muldrow but preferred to avoid him where possible. Beatrice, though, had struck up a friendship with Muldrow’s sister soon after her marriage to Hugh. She spent more time at Fairford Manor than Hugh wished and resolutely ignored every hint as to Muldrow’s character.

Hugh, wishing his bride to enjoy her new life at Thatcham Hall, allowed her visits to continue. If only he had forbidden the connection. The consequences to Beatrice proved disastrous.

Watching Selena twirl happily around the room in the arms of one admirer after another, Hugh began to relax. He retrieved his hat and gloves and left, hoping to enjoy the cool night air on the short walk to his club. One or two other escapees were leaving this and other parties, some passing on to the next—others, like himself, searching for peace and quiet.

Hugh had gone only a few steps when he caught sight of Muldrow, walking briskly a few yards ahead. Relieved to see the man putting distance between himself and Selena, Hugh slowed his pace, having no desire to catch up. In any case, the evening air was pleasant. The fogs of the winter and early spring had given way to light summer breezes. These could not entirely lift the London stink of cabbage, horse and excrement, however, and Hugh hoped a cigar would counter the worst of the smells. He stopped at a corner to light up, pulling the smoke gratefully into his lungs.

Ahead, Muldrow also stopped and leaned on a lamppost. The gas light gleamed yellow. A smaller, thinner figure joined him. Something about the attitudes of the men disturbed Hugh. They peered around, their glances hurried, as though checking no one else stood nearby.

Hugh slipped into the shadows, away from the light of the gas lamps. The street had grown quiet. He was near enough to hear Muldrow’s voice but could not make out the man’s words. He trod quietly closer, keeping in the shadows, curious to know what was going on.

The newcomer was not dressed in evening clothes. He wore a labourer’s fustian coat, heavy boots, and a flat cap. Muldrow and the thin man seemed an unlikely pair. Hugh, closer now, held his breath and strained to make out what they were saying.

“Have you found her?” asked Muldrow.

“Yes, sir,” the other replied. “I know where she’s at, all right. You just say the word, Guv’nor.”

“Have you the plan clear in your mind?” Muldrow shot another glance behind him.

“Don’t you worry about that.” The thin man sniggered. The hairs on Hugh’s neck stood up at the sound. “She’ll get what’s coming to ’er, won’t she?” He hawked and spat into the gutter.