Fyfe leaned over the table. “If you don’t tell us where you were, there will be no good word with the magistrate, and you’ll go to Newgate in a fast wagon. You’re charged with sedition and inciting a riot, and if we can, we’ll pin murder on you as well. Now, spill what you know, or dance at the end of the hangman’s rope.”

Reading paled, gripping his hands together. For a long moment, Daniel thought he might choose the rope, but then he crumpled like a wadded piece of paper. “We couldn’t have killed that mill owner, because we were in the East End planning how to blow up a ropework near the Isle of Dogs.” He hung his head. “I can tell you where to find the explosives we was planning to use. Just please tell the judge I cooperated. Tell him not to make me swing.”

And with one statement, Daniel’s latest theory about the murder evaporated. Once again he had nothing that would help find Mr. Montgomery’s killer. Though they would verify Reading’s story, he sensed in this instance they had finally gotten to a kernel of truth. Which meant Finch could not have murdered Montgomery the morning of the mill explosion, for he had been planning mayhem elsewhere at the time.

A tap on the door, and Owen stuck his head inside. “Message arrived for you.” He handed an envelope to Daniel. “Before you ask, I dunno who sent it. A street urchin brought it. I gave him a penny for his trouble.”

“Reimburse yourself out of petty cash.” Daniel tore open the plain wax seal. “And thank you.”

“I already did.” Owen gave a cheeky grin. “And you’re welcome.”

“I’ll take Mr. Reading here upstairs to the court, and then I’ll see about finding those explosives. Do you want to accompany me?” Fyfe knocked the dottle out of his pipe into his teacup and reached for his tobacco pouch.

Daniel barely heard his fellow detective.

Come to the mill at dawn. I’ve some new information. Rhynwick.

The young scientist. What could he have discovered? Hopefully, something that would aid in the case?

“I say, are you coming with us?” Fyfe asked again as he applied the manacles to Reading’s wrists and hoisted him from his chair.

“I cannot.” Daniel raised the paper. “I must go on an errand. But take Wilkinson with you. He’s useful and wants to learn.”

Daniel’s ride to Hammersmith in Cadogan’s carriage was the first time he’d had to himself since arriving at Bow Street late last night. The moment Sir Bertrand had spoken out of the darkness, Daniel’s heart had nearly stopped. Had he seen Daniel kissing his niece? No censure had come, not from Sir Bertrand, nor from Lady Juliette.