‘He is well out of his swaddling clouts now,’ I said, admiring George’s progress as he crawled over to his father and then, furrowing his little brow with concentration, managed to stand for a moment before clutching at his father’s hose. Smiling at his achievement, he lifted a foot and kicked at his father’s ankle.

Barak lifted him up. ‘Do you kick, sirrah?’ he said with mock seriousness. ‘In the presence of your godfather, too? Shameless imp.’ George chuckled happily. I reached down and patted his head. A few curls, blond like Tamasin’s and fine as silk, escaped from under his cap.

‘He grows by the day,’ I said wonderingly. ‘Though I still cannot see whom he most resembles.’

‘Impossible to say with that fat chubby face,’ Barak said, tapping his son on his button nose.

‘I hear you are to be congratulated, Tamasin.’

She blushed. ‘Thank you, sir. Yes, George will have a little brother or sister next January, God willing. We both hope for a girl this time.’

‘You feel well?’

‘Apart from a little sickness in the mornings, yes. Now, let me fetch that bread and cheese. Jack, you have a pea in your beard. Please take it out. It looks disgusting.’ Barak pulled the pea from where it had lodged, squashed it between his fingers, and gave it to a delighted George. ‘I think I might grow one of those long forkbeards people have now. I could drop so much food in it I would have a nice snack always to hand.’

‘You’d have to find a new house to eat it in,’ Tamasin called from the kitchen.

I looked at Barak, sprawled comfortably in his chair, the little child playing at his feet. I was right to keep him out of this. ‘Jack,’ I said, ‘I have a new piece of business which is likely to keep me out of the office a good deal for the next few days at least. Could I ask you to take charge, to supervise Nicholas and Skelly – though I may use Nicholas a little. I will see the more important clients if I can.’

‘Like Mistress Slanning?’ I knew Barak could not abide her.

‘Yes, I will deal with her.’

He looked at me keenly. ‘What is the business?’

‘A printer murdered down by St Paul’s. It is a week now, and no sign of catching the culprit. The coroner’s office is lazy as usual. I have a power of attorney to investigate, from the printer’s parents. They live in the Chilterns.’

‘They gave you the case?’

I hesitated. ‘It came through a third party.’

‘You don’t do jobs like that any more. Could be dangerous.’

‘I felt a duty to take this on.’

‘You look worried,’ he said in his direct way.

‘Please, Jack,’ I answered, somewhat pettishly. ‘There are some aspects to this I must keep confidential.’