When he looked round into the room an old man was tipping live coals into the fireplace and the girl was flapping her apron at the cats who departed, rubbing the edge of the door with high backs. The fact that there was only one room rather than two, well, it was a fact and they would deal with it later. There was a chair, vaguely French, where a last cat was still asleep. Lacroix thought he could manage on it quite well. The cat could share the bed with Emily.

A candle, a fire, a room. And later, Spinkey himself brought up a tray with two bowls of hot negus, two hard-boiled eggs in their shells, some bread. He apologised again for the room. Lacroix said they were deeply grateful. They had forgotten about the emigration ship. Were all those in the parlour passengers?

“Some are to voyage,” said the Russian, “some to say adieu.”

“Mr. Spinkey,” said Emily, who was sitting on the bed, who looked exhausted, “we need a boat tomorrow. Tomorrow morning.” She told him where they were headed. That the matter was urgent.

“Madam,” said Spinkey, the fixer of all things, the soother, “the people have all been delivered by boats from the islands and the boats must return. There will be no difficulty finding what you need. In the morning I will send out Sasha to ask among the captains.”

He put one of the bowls of negus into her hands. He wanted her to blow on it a little. She did, and sipped from it and swallowed and was very still.

“Vous l’aimez?”

“It is perfect.”

Spinkey smiled, bowed to them both, and left them. They emptied their bowls. Spice, wine, heat. Lacroix peeled an egg by rolling it between his palms. He gave it to Emily and she ate it as though asking questions of it, as though devouring it with curiosity. Because the bed-frame was high, appeared to stand on its tiptoes, her boots did not quite touch the floorboards.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“Late,” he said. “Midnight at least.” He squeezed a scrap of bread, made a pellet of it. “Emily,” he said.

She nodded. “You have things you wish to tell me.”

“Things I must tell you. Though now I suppose is the wrong time. You are tired. You should sleep.”

“And delay some more? I am tired, John. But I do not want to wake in the morning without there being some truth between us.”