My hands tightened to fists, my patience at an end. “A duke has done this? Which?” Several were on the board, Mr. Fielding had said. In theory, great men and generous benefactors.

“Duke?” Mrs. Shaw looked confused again. “No, I mean Bishop Exley. He’s a kindly gentleman. Said it was the only way to convince others to pay more attention to the Hospital.”

“Bishop Exley?” I remembered the gray-haired gentleman with spectacles balanced on his nose who had been with Lord Russell the day we’d fetched the ledgers. He’d seemed puzzled and confused by our accusations, but of course he’d pretend to be so. He’d not stopped Daniel taking away the ledgers, but he couldn’t very well prevent him without arousing our suspicions. Exley must have believed we’d never decipher them, but he did not know Mr. Thanos, a genius with numbers.

“Think, Mrs. Shaw,” I said. “If he wants good for the children, why take only you into his confidence? Why worry everyone else? Wouldn’t it be better that no one reported the children missing? Which is what happened.”

Tears trickled down Mrs. Shaw’s cheeks and dropped into the pastry cream on her plate. “He said it would be best no one knew. So he could provide without glorifying himself.”

“Mrs. Shaw.” I rose, unable to keep still. “Nurse Betts died because she was looking for those children. She searched in the wrong place, alarmed the wrong people, ran the wrong direction. She’d have remained safely at home and be all right if you had simply told her the truth.”

“Oh, my good God.” Mrs. Shaw also climbed to her feet, but very slowly, as though pulled up by invisible strings. “That can’t be right.”

“It can. You were proud that this man confided in you, weren’t you? You alone. And you never smelled a rat.” I clenched my fists, understanding how Mr. Fielding had felt in the room at Scotland Yard, wishing he could strike down Luke. “How did you get the children out?”

Mrs. Shaw began to shake. “I packed up their things and woke ’em early. Took them out through the church gate to a hired coach. And off they went.”

“And where is this farm?” I asked. “We had better discover whether they are truly there.”

At last Mrs. Shaw began to see the enormity of it. She fell to her seat, rocking back and forth. “I didn’t mean . . . I thought . . . I’m sorry . . .” Her weeping increased, threatening to become hysteria.

I swiftly exited the room, making my way to Mr. Davis’s pantry, to which I had the keys. I poured out a glass of brandy and carried it hastily back to the servants’ hall.