Miss Carlyle returned. “This way, gentlemen.”

She led them into a well-appointed but unostentatious office, where Carlyle sat behind a dark-wood desk. The top was scarred and ink stained, with ledgers and papers arranged on it. Clearly a workingman’s room.

“You may go, Abigail.”

“Yes, sir.” She closed the door gently, and her shadow disappeared from the glass.

Carlyle held Daniel’s card. “Bow Street, eh? I suppose this is about the Montgomery matter? Didn’t I see you at his place when my wife and I called on his daughter?”

“You did, sir.” Daniel handed Owen his notebook and pencil. “May we sit?”

“Fine, though I don’t know what I can tell you.” He tossed the card onto his desk. “I knew Montgomery for years, didn’t like him, often competed against him for business. I don’t know anyone who would have wanted to kill him, unless it was one of his own soon-to-be-out-of-work employees. There was trouble over some of his modern ideas, streamlining his methods to reduce the number of men he needed to run his mill.”

Owen started to sit in the chair before the desk, and Daniel cleared his throat. The office boy looked up, and Daniel indicated the chair along the wall.

Seated, Daniel crossed his legs and swung his foot. “Everyone seems to be talking about the updates at the mill in Hammersmith. Was it such a radical idea? Doesn’t every industry make improvement to aid production and efficiency?”

“Of course, but gradually, most times. The changes Montgomery was making would gut the mill, completely altering the structure and layout. He hoped to cut his workforce in half. He planned to start within the fortnight, so half the men making their living at his mill might soon be headed to the poorhouse. Men who have worked there since they were lads, men whose fathers and grandfathers worked that mill long before Montgomery got his hands on it. He’s only been in the milling business for three years. He was proposing to change generations of history and those men’s entire way of life.”

“How long have you been in the milling business?”

“I was born to it. There’s been a Carlyle in charge of this mill since Good Queen Bess sat on the throne, and I plan to survive the current addled monarch and his pompous son.” He leaned back, as if satisfied he could accomplish his plans.

“You and Montgomery were business rivals?”

“Of course.”

“Is it true that you had planned to purchase the mill in Hammersmith once upon a time and were outbid by Montgomery?” It was a stab in the dark, but it made sense. If the mill had been for sale that recently, Carlyle would most likely have wanted to purchase it.