“There isn't,” Rathbone replied with feeling. “I know nothing beyond what has already been revealed, but I believe that something exists. I would like the coroner to open the inquest, and then adjourn it so we may find the evidence to prove it.”

“And you expect me to tell him this?” The judge's pale blue eyes were wide with incredulity. “I'm sorry, Rathbone, but even if I did, without some evidence to support you, he would think me as mad as I think you. You'll have three days at the most.”

“It's not enough.”

“Maybe that's as well. Now if that is all I can do for you, allow me to prepare for my next case. Good day to you.”

Hester also rose early, and took a hansom to Genevieve's house. She had reason to believe she would be at home, since she was no longer required to help Enid, and there was no further business to be hoped for at the Old Bailey. In the prevailing tragic circumstances, she would hardly be either receiving social calls or making any. The business of Angus's death would have to wait upon legal procedure.

She was not disappointed. Genevieve looked pale and exhausted, but reasonably composed.

“How are you?” Hester said as she was led into the kitchen, the only room in the house with any warmth. It was spacious and full of agreeable smells of baking bread and fresh linen drying on the large airing rack across the ceiling, let up and down on a rope pulley fastened to the wall. There was no one else present. Presumably the cook had been allowed to go, in the interests of the increasingly stringent economy. A housemaid had answered the door, and perhaps there could be a woman come in to do the heavy work once or twice a week. No doubt the nurserymaid would be the last to be let go. A manservant would have been too expensive even to consider.

Genevieve smiled briefly, but there was an honesty in it.

“We shall manage. Once they grant that Angus is dead, we shall be able to appoint someone to manage the business and proceed with decisions. I daresay it will be difficult for a little while, but that will not matter.”

She met Hester's eyes with candor. “I have certainly been colder and hungrier before. The children do not find it easy to understand, but I shall explain it to them as well as I can.”

“Will it be Mr. Niven you ask to manage the business?” It was really none of her affair, but Hester inquired because she hoped it was.

Genevieve colored very faintly, but there was no awkwardness in her answer.

Without excusing herself, or explaining the necessity, she went over to the sink and started to peel potatoes. They were old, black in spots, and with too many eyes. There were also carrots and turnips on the bench.