“If you prefer,” Wildsmith said indifferently, and reached out his hand. Aaron made to pull the letters out, then paused. “Wait. What about the ethics of this?”

“What ethics?”

That said it all. “You’re reading private communications for one thing. And you’re passing judgement on people you haven’t met, who haven’t consented to have you look at their hands.”

“If you think the materials ought to stay private, don’t show them to me. You chose what to bring. I do guarantee discretion, and if it’s any help, I don’t much look at the words: it’s the shape of the letters, the feel of the hand that interests me. And as for passing judgement—you’ve come here for me to do this. If you have qualms, the door is behind you.”

“You don’t have qualms?”

“I have rent.”

Blunt, not to say a touch aggressive. He had what Aaron’s father would have called front, a way of meeting the world jaw-first. Aaron had no objection to that; he found bluntness more appealing than charm. Not to mention that Wildsmith’s presentation of himself as a practical man doing a job came across as more convincing than any amount of highfaluting scientific claims.

Wildsmith probably knew that very well.

Aaron gave it a second, allowing himself to look torn, then he handed over the first paper.

Wildsmith took his time, those light brown eyes—ochre, Aaron thought might be the word—roaming over the text for several minutes. His mouth moved slightly, so far as Aaron could tell under the horrible moustache. The silence stretched. Aaron was good at silence, and very capable of sitting in a room with a suspect till their nerve broke, but he had to admit that Wildsmith was doing an excellent job of ignoring him completely.

He looked around the room again. It really was bare. His own digs weren’t precisely cosy, but he had a photograph of his sister’s wedding, and a reproduction Constable on the wall. Admittedly that had been a gift from his sister as a joke when he joined the police force, and he only hung it out of habit, but it was there.

Wildsmith looked up at last, and scrunched his face up, as if blinking something away. Aaron thought it looked affected.

“This is a very decent man,” he said. “I assume man, the hand looks extremely—”

“Man, yes.”