“That statement could cover a multitude of facts. If he’s in thick with the police, why spend his days carrying sacks of meal up and down kitchen stairs? He could take an office and put his feet up on a desk. And why would they trust a deliveryman to bring them information?” He shook his head. “Then there’s his son. Daniel McAdam, with a son. I can scarce credit it.”

“These things happen,” I said, making my voice uninflected. I kept to myself my feelings about Daniel and the woman who’d borne James. None of my business what Daniel had got up to before I met him, I’d told myself. “Daniel has not imparted much about James’s mother. He did not realize he’d fathered a child at all until she sent for him on her deathbed, so I’ve been told. She’d sent James away, but Daniel managed to find him, and now looks after him.”

“Good heavens, what a tale. Very melodramatic.” Mr. Fielding watched me closely. “Do you believe him?”

“Of course. Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because Daniel is a great liar, my dear. He was a fabulous mimic as a lad, could become anyone he wanted. A chameleon, I called him.”

Mr. Fielding’s words held a ring of truth, I hated to admit. Daniel took on other guises well, subsuming his true self in them. When I’d first seen him in the suit of a City gent, I’d not recognized him for a moment. If I hadn’t met him before that, I’d never have realized the man in front of me was anything but a middle-class banker.

“I see no reason for him to have made up the story of James and his mother,” I said.

“Good.” He pronounced the word with satisfaction. “Then I am pleased he has taken you into his confidence.”

“Are you?” I eyed him. “Why?”

Mr. Fielding leaned back in his chair, the very picture of a relaxed clergyman who’d come to discuss nothing more dangerous than charitable works. “He needs a confidant. Daniel was ever alone. Had few friends, trusted no one.”

“I cannot blame him. I have heard a little about his childhood, and I understand why he kept himself to himself.”

“Our life was not all bad.” Mr. Fielding took on a nostalgic look. “Carter was kind to us, in his way. He knew we believed he’d taken us into his house for the worst of reasons, and so at first he left us alone, simply giving us place to sleep and food to eat and not minding if we came and went as we pleased.”

“Kind of him, indeed. What was his price?”

Mr. Fielding blinked at me. “Beg pardon?”

I sent him a pitying look. “Unless this man was of angelic disposition, wishing to save all boys from the streets, he must have expected something in return.”