“I see.” Rathbone looked as if he did, although Hester knew he had not the slightest idea. “Well, that will not affect me. I have no desire to avail myself of your services. I mean simply to invest money and reap the reward. But I would prefer to think that you did not have many clients who meet with accidents. It attracts the wrong kind of attention. I am in a position to ride out one term of police presence due to murder, but not two.”

“Oh, it won’t happen again!” Squeaky assured him. “It’s never happened before, and I’ll take care of it. The woman’s gone, I assure you.”

“Good!” Rathbone almost smiled. “Satisfactory so far. But naturally I require to know rather more about your business—for instance, the financial side of it, the incomings and outgoings, the general history—before I commit myself.”

“Of course . . . of course!” Squeaky nodded vigorously. “Anyone would. It needs a careful man.”

“I am a careful man,” Rathbone said with the barest smile.

Hester had a sudden suspicion that part of him was enjoying playacting the role. There was a casual elegance in the way he stood, and his hands by his sides were relaxed, his fingers loose. She might tease him about this afterwards, when it was all over. He would probably never admit to it.

“It’s a good business,” Squeaky assured him. “Very profitable, and strictly legal, mind. Just a matter of lending a little money to people who need it. Could almost be viewed as a charity.” He saw the look on Rathbone’s face and amended his expression. “Well . . . there’s no matter what anyone thinks, is there, ’cos nobody’s going to know.”

“Not from me,” Rathbone replied dryly. “And if you are wise, not from you either.”

“Oh, rest easy, sir!” Squeaky nodded vehemently, his eyes wide. “Rest easy!”

“You won’t get any money until I do,” Rathbone promised him. “How did your deceased partner become involved?”

Hester shot a quick look at him. It did not matter how Baltimore had started in this. In fact, she really no longer cared who had killed him, if it was one of his own victims, and not only for the money but for his appetites as well. A certain kind of justice had already been served.

“Some gentlemen have different tastes,” Squeaky said with a wry leer. “He was one of them.”

“And you take all such men into your confidence?” Rathbone said with disgust. Hester saw his hand clench by his side. She was afraid now that the answer Squeaky would give would make it far harder for him to remain as an investor. He had pushed too far. Should she say something to help? But what?

“You set up the business with him?” she interrupted. “I daresay it was his idea?”