The man hesitated. In the carriage lights his face was marked with weariness and the snow was dusting his hat and shoulders. "Prince o' Wales Theater," he answered guardedly.

"Go often?" Runcorn asked.

"Couple o' times a week, if there's somethin' good on."

"Excellent. Which number house do you belong to, and what's your master's name?"

"Not ternight." The man shook his head.

"Course not," Runcorn agreed. "Tomorrow, maybe, at a decent hour. What's his name?"

Monk gave a half salute and moved on to the next coachman, who was clearly visible in the lights about four houses along.

In half an hour they collected a reasonable list. They agreed to resume the following evening, a little earlier next time.

Monk's mood was considerably deflated when he arrived at the station in Wapping a little late the next morning.

"Mr. Farnham wants to see you, sir," Clacton said with a smile composed far more of satisfaction than friendliness. The smile broadened. " 'E's bin waitin' a while!"

Monk could think of no reply, save one, that would not play straight into Clacton's hands. But the resolve hardened inside him to deal with Clacton decisively as soon as he could create the opportunity. This time he simply thanked him and went to report to Farnham.

"Cold getting to you, Monk?" Farnham said unsympathetically before Monk had closed the office door.

"Sir?" The room was warm and comfortable, smelling slightly of woodsmoke, and there was a cup of tea steaming on the desk next to a pile of papers.

"Fancy your bed more than a brisk river crossing?" Farnham elaborated. "Didn't see that that's what the job would need? On the water, Monk! That's where the work is!" He did not add that Durban would have been here long before this hour, but it was implicit in his expression.

"Yes, sir. It was a cold night," Monk agreed, biting his temper with great difficulty. Private work might leave him frighteningly short of money, but it afforded him the luxury of not putting up silently with remarks like that. He had to remind himself with cruel bluntness what it would cost him to retaliate now. "It was a harsh night," he added. "It was snowing quite hard when I got home at half past one."

Farnham looked irritated. "Chasing that suicide again? Do I have to remind you that river crime is up, which is our business-your business, Monk? There aren't many passenger boats on the water this time of year, but the few there are are experiencing more thefts than usual, and we aren't doing anything about it! Some people are suggesting that is because we don't care to." His face was hard and there were blotches of color in his cheeks.