‘All right,’ said Collis. ‘I bet you that I can have the Sierras surveyed for a railroad route by the spring, financed out of my own pocket, and that I can lay a line through to Nevada by the time five years is up. And if I win the bet, you’ll have to buy me lunch at the International, and invest fifty per cent of whatever liquid assets you have in my railroad.’

Teach paused for a moment. Then he extended his hand, hard and short-fingered, with a single gold signet ring. ‘It’s done,’ he said. ‘And if you lose, I’ll take fifty per cent of whatever liquid assets you might own at the time. But I’ll forgo the lunch. This,’ he said, raising his glass, ‘is all I usually take at midday.’

There was a sudden lull in the saloon’s laughter and conversation, and Collis had the disturbing feeling that the floor had moved under his feet.

‘Earthquake,’ Charles said, unconcerned.

Collis spent a long time dressing that evening. Out of his winnings from the Eagle Saloon, he had been down to Wills the tailor’s and bought himself a new dress shirt, a new necktie, and a silk hat. He had also found a very reasonable shoemaker on Sacramento Street and had spent twenty dollars on a new pair of black kid pumps.

He had considered going into mourning for his father for a week or two, but after three stone fences he had decided it was really not worth it. His father was 3000 miles away, and buried, and they’d never been warm friends in any case. A prayer for his soul would have to be enough, and perhaps a very small private wish for forgiveness. Not that he’d ever tell his mother.

Outside his bedroom window, as he tied his tie, the sky was a pale grey-blue, and the lights in the houses opposite were smudged with fog. It was eight o’clock, dusk, and downstairs he could hear the bustling of full-flounced dresses and an occasional screech of annoyance as Knickerbocker Jane finished her gaudy and elaborate toilette. He leaned close to his mirror and snipped his sidewhiskers with a small pair of scissors.