“Wentworth and Penrose, you say?” Edwards took out a silk handkerchief bearing a coat of arms monogrammed in gold and red. He patted his lips, his display of breaking bread apparently concluded, and laid the handkerchief next to his gloves.

“Wentworth’s is a fine bank,” Jack said, “though of recent origin. One of the owners has come up in the world in the past few years, but I’ve never heard a breath of scandal associated with the place. Schilling’s is equally respected and has been around decades longer.”

Jack did not want Edwards sniffing about Ellie’s bank, particularly when Ellie had yet to return from wherever she’d got off to.

“You don’t particularly trust Dorset and Becker?” Edwards asked.

Jack helped himself to a larger half sandwich. “I don’t know them well, sir.”

“So you haven’t heard anything unflattering about Dorset’s. You’re simply unable to venture an opinion?”

This quibbling was most odd. “I did hear that Dorset and Becker had a recent spot of trouble, sir. Nothing major, just an older client being a bit forgetful. The unfortunate thing is, when there’s a problem with an account or a ledger and that problem is resolved, we tend to go on our way thinking we’re immune to further difficulties.”

“Like putting a coin in the poor box absolves us of charitable obligations for the week?”

Was that how the wealthy so easily ignored the suffering of their neighbors? No wonder the church poor boxes were so small.

“Something like that, sir. Find one error, and you can miss three others.”

“Then you’re saying Dorset and Becker might have let down their guard?”

The conversation wasn’t going where Jack had thought it would, but ye gods, the food was wonderful. “To some extent. They might be on the lookout for another crochety old gent, but they wouldn’t see a poor widow standing before them with larceny in her heart.”

And whatever else was true, Jack suspected Mr. Edwards—who was not Mr. Edwards—had larceny in his heart. He’d barely touched the food and drink, and any man wiping his mouth on monogrammed silk was hardly the sort to frequent the Bull and Baron.

“Eve did hoodwink Adam into tasting that apple, didn’t she?” Edwards mused.

“Wasn’t it more a matter of the serpent doing the hoodwinking?”

Edwards regarded him for a long moment, his air distracted. “Mr. Tolliver, you have given me much to think about. I’ll wish you good day.”

He set a few coins on the table, gathered up his effects, and sauntered out into the frigid darkness. He’d overpaid by more than a few pennies, but Jack left the money on the table. The food and drink he’d enjoy, while Edwards’s coin bore a hint of ill-gotten means.