‘Well, I am sorry. I am sorry for that.’

A small pause, and yet more.

‘What?’

And more.

‘No!’

Still more.

‘Can’t be.’

A touch.

‘How did it?’

Some.

‘Among us?’

A bit.

‘It what?’

Some.

‘Our own!’

Some.

‘Which one?’

Some.

‘Him!’

A nod.

‘Alone!’

A mouthful.

‘They what!’

Again some.

‘No, no, no!’

Silence.

‘Where now?’

A very little.

‘Lost!’

A very little.

‘Then find it!’

‘Yes, my lady.’ Mrs Piggott spoke louder once more.

‘Then trap it!’

‘Yes, my lady.’

‘Then kill it!’

‘Yes, my lady.’

‘I don’t care about the Gathering, I don’t care about the storm! I want it trapped and I want it killed. At once, Piggott. Do not show your face to me until it is done. I’ll have you bleached, my woman.’

‘Yes, my lady.’

‘I’ll have you eat lye.’

‘Yes, my lady.’

‘And, Piggott?’

‘My lady?’

‘The other involved, the other one.’

‘My lady?’

‘I shall see to that. Personally see to it.’

‘Yes, my lady.’

‘And Piggott?’

‘Yes, my lady?’

‘There must be order, I’ll have no chaos under this roof. Bells to sound quite as they always do. But, perhaps, under the circumstances, an early bed bell.’

‘Yes, my lady.’

‘Go then, go!’

Mrs Piggott, so trembling, so shaken about, shook herself from my grandmother’s presence.

‘Ineptitude!’ hurled Grandmother at the exiting housekeeper with such force that it seemed her voice itself had closed the door. Grandmother was silent for a little while.

‘Did you mention Tummis, Granny?’ I asked. ‘Is all well?’

‘Do not concern yourself with Tummis, Clodius.’

‘I do hope he shall be trousered soon.’

‘Do not concern yourself.’

She looked at me for a long time, just looked. What a look it was. That look, I thought, was entering into my nostrils and through my earholes, and peeking about there, gathering information. Then she breathed in with great force, as if recalling that expeditionary look back to herself, back into her own body, where she inhaled it and considered it, before saying something in a way that was by no means quiet or peaceful but rather unhappy and, I rather thought, full of repulsion.

‘What shall you do out there, Clodius, in the city?’

‘I do not know precisely yet. Whatever Grandfather wishes of me.’

‘A good answer at last. You are an Iremonger, Clodius.’

‘Yes, Granny.’

‘I trust you shall behave like one.’

‘Yes, Granny.’

‘You must make our family very proud. You have it in you, I think, Clodius, somewhere within you, though you do disguise it so. If only for your mother, you must be a great Iremonger. You shall not let us down.’

‘No, Grandmother, I shall do my best.’