“If I can tie it to the work of anarchists, we can turn it over to the Home Office, but they won’t want to wade in until it’s confirmed.”

And I can always ask the Duke of Haverly what the Home Office would like to do.

From what Daniel had been able to discern, the Duke of Haverly practically was the Home Office.

A tap at the door, and Owen entered carrying a tea tray.

Daniel waited while the office boy fussed with pouring and milk and sugar and the like. It was as if he was deliberately taking his time, hoping they would say something that his ever-gathering ears could capture.

“Enough.” Sir Michael waved him away. “Swann, are you sure you want to take on a case at the moment? When you’re so near the end of your tenure here?”

Daniel tensed. “Am I? Near the end?”

Sir Michael smirked. “I believe the understanding we have had with each other these past two years is coming to an end. Certain restrictions and limitations will be lifted? Certain support withdrawn?”

Aware of Owen slowly retreating, Daniel waited, forcing himself to relax. When the door finally closed behind him, he said, “Sir Michael, I will not know the extent of the support or lack of it until I meet with my solicitors. I have worked hard to earn my place here, and I am a good detective. A detective who is asking to investigate a murder and industrial sabotage. If you could send word to the Hammersmith magistrate offering my services, I believe he will be amenable to accepting our assistance.”

Sir Michael assessed him with a steady gaze, and Daniel refused to flinch. If he was going to be fired, he could do nothing about it, but he would not grovel.

“Very well. There are no detectives free at the moment to assist you. You’ll have to make do with Owen as your second man. If you want the job, that’s the best I can do.”

Owen. Pity Ed Beck, Daniel’s customary partner, was on a case in Yorkshire. Now he’d have to drag a reluctant office boy along with him.

Still, it was his case now. He’d show Sir Michael his competence.

“Poor Agatha. What state was she in when you left her?” Mother shuffled and dealt the whist cards, practicing to keep her fingers nimble.

“Devastated. We got her back to the house, and a physician was called. He gave her something that sent her to sleep. Otherwise I would not have felt comfortable leaving her at all.” Juliette sat at the table in the War Room on the top floor of her parents’ townhouse.