“Of course you can,” I said firmly. “Mr. Fielding is a governor.”

“I’ll have to advise the other governors of this,” Exley said in disapproval.

“Best that you do,” Mr. Fielding said. “If they have anything to do with this, I’ll have them. You too, Hirst.”

The secretary looked shocked and Lord Russell, resigned. “If you find any evidence of foul dealings, Mr. Fielding, I will be happy to report it.”

“You bloody well will.” Mr. Fielding snatched up the remaining two ledgers and strode from the room. Daniel followed, nodding once at the stunned secretary and the spluttering Exley as he passed them.

I regarded Lord Russell in some pity. “Consider my suggestion of tea, your lordship. You have had a shock. I hope that my friends are wrong, but I believe something untoward has happened here.”

“Yes.” Lord Russell looked dazed. “And if it has, my name will be worth nothing. I believe your suggestion of brandy the better one.”

*   *   *

Mr. Fielding’s rage had not subsided by the time Daniel assisted me once more into the carriage.

“What good are books?” he snarled at Daniel as the coach pulled away. “I don’t believe Hirst for a moment—a man can look deathly shocked when his sins are found out. Even if he didn’t know, I want to go through the governors one at a time until I find the ringleader. Anyone who had knowledge of this will feel my fists.”

I shared with him his need to punish the offenders, but I thought we ought to be certain where the blame fell first. “These ledgers might tell us exactly what happened.”

“Maybe, but they are beyond me,” Mr. Fielding said. “I say we make the treasurer eat them until he deciphers them for us.”

Daniel gave him a quelling look. “The governors are made up of peers of the realm, bishops, and other notable gentlemen. How they elected you to join them would puzzle me if I didn’t know you. But if you punch a peer in the face, you’ll only get yourself arrested.”

“I am not afraid of toffee-nosed aristos,” Mr. Fielding snarled.

“Ledgers can tell tales,” Daniel said. “I know you can’t read them, and neither can I, but I know a chap who’ll likely be able to.”

“Mr. Thanos,” I said at once.

“Exactly.”

Mr. Fielding opened his mouth, derision on his face, then he nodded. “You’re right. He’s a bloody genius. Even I can see that.”

He settled into silence as we made our way back to Regent Street, too slowly for my comfort. It was Monday, and cold, but all of London seemed to want to be out this afternoon.

Mr. Thanos was in, fortunately, and he began an eager welcome before he caught our expressions.

“What has happened?” he asked.