Cracking one eye, he glared at the lad. “I will inform Miss Montgomery when I have enough information to do so. I know nothing about the situation, and it would be both foolish and humiliating to put forth a theory and then have to recant it should it turn out to be untrue. Whoever is dead at the mill, there could be another explanation than murder. It may have been an accident, or the person may have fallen ill and died. Assemble facts before you formulate a theory, and certainly before you spread your unformed thoughts to people who have already suffered loss.”

Owen crossed his arms and sat back, scowling, and Daniel closed his eyes once more. But his mind did not shut down.

Juliette had ascertained that Mrs. Carlyle was quite flirtatious. But was she carrying on an affair with Mr. Montgomery? Juliette thought it unlikely, but she had not seen as much of the world and human behavior as Daniel. If not Montgomery, then someone else? Perhaps someone who had gotten wind of the rumors of other affairs, suspecting her of cavorting with Montgomery, and in a fit of jealousy sought to eliminate competition for her affections?

And who was this body at the mill? How had he died? Was it related to the Montgomery killing?

As always, Daniel had more questions than answers. His mind raced down several trails, always winding back to who wanted Montgomery dead and why.

The carriage pulled up at the end of the street where Daniel had been knocked over by the blast, and he leapt out, an eerie feeling sweeping over him. He could almost smell the dust and smoke and feel the concussive explosion reverberating up the street. A fence had been erected around the mill property, with placards telling people to keep out. A handful of men huddled at the gate, where another man stood guarding the entrance.

Daniel looked up at the driver. “If you like, you can go up the street to The Dove and wait. I’ll find you there when I’m finished.” He flipped a coin up to the man, who caught it deftly with a grin.

“I’ll do that very thing, guv. Take your time.”

Owen shoved his hands into his pockets and sauntered beside Daniel down the lane.

A portion of the roof over the main part of the mill had either collapsed or been taken down since Daniel’s last visit. The damage must have been more substantial than first assumed.

Shouldering his way through the townsmen clustered at the gate, he announced his identity to the guard and was shown through. Owen slipped in as well.

“Magistrate and watchman are waiting in the warehouse.” The guard jerked his thumb to the right.

A sturdy man of at least fifty summers, who wore spectacles and an air of authority, greeted them. “Mr. Tollar. Magistrate for Hammersmith.”

“Sir.” Daniel turned to the other man.