Daniel barely heard. He skimmed the early entries in the diary, about how proud Montgomery was of his daughter, how he looked forward to her homecoming and bringing her out in society. How he had missed her, how proud her mother would have been if she could see the woman Agatha had become.

It would gratify and perhaps comfort Miss Montgomery to read such nice things. He only hoped Mr. Montgomery had taken the time to express his feelings to her before his death.

Then the entries changed.

Must look into the matter. Something is off. After all I’ve done, can this betrayal be true? I shall have to take care. I wouldn’t want to be wrong.

What did that mean? And why did the entries end there? Daniel flipped through the book, and a flash of ink caught his eye. Montgomery had written on another page, about halfway through the book, as if he’d grabbed the volume at random and spilled his thoughts.

I cannot trust him. His perfidy is the ultimate betrayal. A trusted friend. How could he have done this to me? I made him the man he is, hiring him right out of his apprenticeship and giving him full access. I couldn’t believe it at first, and I still find it difficult to swallow. How many thousands has he stolen? I shall have to confront him tomorrow.

The entry was dated the day before Montgomery was killed.

In that moment, Daniel knew who the killer must be.

It was time to lay a trap and see if the right mouse came for the cheese.

“He took the bait, right?” Daniel shrugged into the dressing gown Sir Bertrand held for him. His muscles still protested. Perhaps when this was over he would finally get that long hot soak and a few days off to recover.

“Yes.” Lady Juliette studied her reflection, holding up a shaving mirror to the lamplight. A mobcap concealed her glossy brown curls, and a shapeless woolen dress and stained apron disguised her slender form. “I did exactly as you said, and after he left, I checked. The book was gone. He must believe, if he only tidies up this one last loose end, he will get away with all of it.”

They stood in a side ward at St. Bart’s, and the clock was gone midnight.