"My God, I suppose I must claim him." Trev tossed his hat down on the hall table. "Turf him out, Mrs. Rankin, and tell him to hie himself here at once if he cares to live another day. You may bill his board to me."

The landlady looked relieved. "I'll send him to you straightaway, your grace. And forbid him the taproom?"

"Oh, with my blessing. He won't be lingering in Shelford, in any event."

Trev cut short Barton's excuses and apologies, keeping him standing in the kitchen. "Spare me the sad tale! Doubtless I should have known to scout the local taproom for any pestilent acquaintance of mine engaged in a swindle."

"I didn't think you'd begrudge me and poor old Toby a bed, sir," Barton said reproachfully. "You never did a'fore."

"Try, Barton—try to recall that I've turned you off. You are seeking other employment."

"Sir." He shifted his feet, plunging his hands into his pockets. "Sir, I don't want no other employment."

"What is it you expect of me?" Trev lowered his voice to an exasperated hiss. "I'm done with blacklegs and sharpers. I have no work for you now."

"You kept on Jock, sir," Barton said, his head bent. "You found work for him."

"As a valet! And I suppose you'd like to be my gardener?"

Barton looked up. "I'll do anything, sir! Only don't cast me off. Charlie washed his hands of me, and now me an' old Tobe ain't got nobody."

"Barton—" Trev leaned his shoulders on the wall, crossing his arms.

"Please, sir! Don't say no. After all the years I've been with you." He swallowed. "Please."

Trev gave a heavy sigh. He rested his head back and closed his eyes.

"Has I ever failed you, sir?" Barton asked. "Has I ever botched what you asked of me?"

"A hundred times," Trev muttered. He would have felt kinder kicking the dog away.

"I'll do better! There must be something I can do for ye," Barton said, his voice cracking. "Please."

"All right!" Trev stood upright. "All right, then. Don't snivel, for God's sake. I have a commission for you."

Barton's wide-mouthed grin spread across his face. "Sir? You mean it?"

"A single commission. One."

"Thank you, sir!" The man held himself up to his best height. "Whatever you wish!"

"I want you to purchase a bull for me," Trev said, "from a Colonel Davenport."

Barton nodded eagerly. "I'm a dab at a haggle, sir, and you know it. What's your limit?"

"No limit. The animal goes by the name of Hubert. The cost is no object."

"No object, sir?" Barton said, looking doubtful. "For a bull?"

"Shelford's prize bull. Davenport's to come and take him off tomorrow. Wait until that's done before you make your approach. Keep it quiet."

"Oh, aye, sir. Mum as a post. Don't want to drive the price up, eh?"