Baltimore turned to him, startled by the pain. He recognized Monk after a second’s hesitation, and his face hardened.

“Mr. Baltimore,” Monk said levelly, staring at him without blinking. “I have news for you from London which you need to hear as soon as possible. I think privately would be best.”

Baltimore took his meaning and was eager not to mar his moment of triumph with an awkward interview. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” he said with a smile that did not reach his eyes. “I will only be a moment. Please enjoy yourselves. Accept our hospitality.” He turned to Monk, saying something under his breath as he half pushed him out of the door into an unoccupied compartment of the carriage they were in.

“What the devil are you doing here?” he demanded. “I thought by now they’d be questioning you on Dundas’s money! Or is that what you’re doing? Attempting to escape!” His face hardened. “Well, I’m damned if I’ll help you. My father told me on the night of his death how you tried to put him out of business. What was that for? Revenge because he exposed Dundas?”

“I tried to save hundreds of lives—without putting you out of business!” Monk said between his teeth. He kept his grasp on Baltimore’s arm. “For God’s sake, just hold your tongue and listen. We haven’t much time. If—”

“Liar!” Baltimore snarled. “I know you made my father sign a letter that he would never manufacture the brakes again. What did you threaten him with? He’s not an easy man to frighten . . . what did you do to him?” He snatched his arm away from Monk’s grip. “Well, you won’t frighten me. I’ll see you in jail first.”

“Why do you think your father agreed to it?” Monk demanded, containing his temper with intense difficulty as he stared at Baltimore’s arrogant, angry face, and felt the train sway and jolt beneath them as it gathered speed, hurtling towards the long incline, and the viaduct beyond. “Just because I asked him?”

“I don’t know,” Baltimore replied. “But I won’t give in to you!”