“It’s too soon to draw any conclusions. I will need your full names and addresses in case I think of anything else to ask you—or you’re called upon to testify at a trial.”

As they were giving the information, a smartly dressed man with precise movements came up the lane, tilting his head back to look at the top of the mill, then slowly perusing the walls, windows, and doors. He had a cane tucked under his arm and a jaunty angle to his hat.

The structural engineer.

Daniel nodded to the mill workers and approached the man. “Sir, I believe we have an appointment.”

“Ah, you must be the detective. Isaiah Hoffman, at your service.” He flicked his fingers, and a card appeared. A small smile played about his lips. “Shall we begin? I do not want to be behind my time.”

“Daniel Swann, Bow Street.” Daniel took the card and tucked it into his pocket.

“She’s had a bit of a shake, hasn’t she?” Hoffman used his cane tip to poke at the stone wall. Dust came off but no mortar. “The building seems to have withstood it quite well. I have seen far worse.”

“Is it safe to go inside?”

“Do not rush. A thorough assessment will take time.” He pursed his lips. “I viewed the building plans before I arrived. I have them all up here.” He tapped the side of his head under his hat brim. “My firm designed both the addition of the warehouse some years ago and the new plans for expansion and modernization. Do you know where the worst of the damage was done?”

“The main mill floor, from what I understand. That’s where the fire was.”

“Then I believe we should enter through the warehouse and work our way across.” He tucked his cane back under his arm and strode to their right. “This way, young man.”

As if measuring a line, Mr. Hoffman paced off the distance with even, identical steps until he turned at the corner of the building and stopped before the warehouse doors. Wood and metal and a quantity of flour spilled from the opening. He studied the debris. “This appears to be mostly the contents of the warehouse itself. Barrel staves, cooper’s rings, sacking and inventory. These beams, however, are troubling.” His lips twitched, and his eyes narrowed. “Unless …”

He bent to study one of the thick chunks of wood. “Ah yes.” Straightening, he smiled. “These are not structural. Or at least not yet. Not a single peg or nail hole, mortise or tenon. These are the supports the firm recommended for the renovation, and clearly Mr. Montgomery purchased them and had them delivered in advance of the work. They must have been leaning against the wall near the door when the explosion occurred.”

Daniel nodded. “This is where we found the manager, Mr. Coombe. Half-buried and pinned.”