“Couldn’t have stood that far away as the office isn’t that big. He might have been in the passageway. How long had Montgomery been dead when the blast occurred?” Daniel tried to imagine how it all happened, but he knew it was too soon. He would have to talk to people who were inside the mill that day to piece together Mr. Montgomery’s last hours.

Rosebreen shook his head. “Impossible to say. The gunshot killed him. There was very little blood around the wound. You say you found him on his back?”

“Yes.”

“Then gravity would have pooled the blood inside the head. The glass cuts didn’t bleed much either, and the rest of the fluids settled along his back and legs. The body wasn’t moved until I came for it.” The doctor wiped his hands on his apron and tugged at the strings. “That’s all I can tell you. He was dead before the explosion, but for how long I cannot say.” He shrugged and lit another cigar. “The dead can only tell us so much. The secrets you seek are hidden among the living.”

“Aren’t they always?”

“I’ll prepare the body for burial. I understand the sexton will be retrieving it in a few hours.” Rosebreen studied the glowing end of his cigar.

Daniel uncrossed his arms. “Owen, wait here and get a copy of Mr. Foster’s report, and then take the bullet and the report back to Bow Street.”

Owen scowled. “Where will you be?”

“Making inquiries.”

He would go to the mill first, then the Hammersmith magistrate’s office. Tomorrow was Sunday, but on Monday he would need to speak with Miss Montgomery, a task he dreaded. Perhaps he would enlist some help.

Monday morning, Juliette descended the stairs from her bedchamber, Daniel Swann’s card in her hand. Mr. Pultney had informed her of his arrival, and she had hastily changed into a new gown and checked her appearance in her dressing table mirror. All the while she had mocked herself for caring what Daniel Swann might think of her.

Uncle Bertie would have chided her as well, being cloistered in her room at this time of day, but with the departure of her parents this morning for their mission to France, she had been overtaken with a malaise of the spirit that left her listless and dissatisfied with life. It chafed to find she was not as flexible and willing to change her ideas and desires as she had once thought. All she had hoped after years away at boarding school was to return to her family and to be with them, to know them.