Renfrew rises, steps close to Charlie, and pulls him up gently by his shoulder. Standing close, the man still smells of leather and horse.

“There will come a time to choose between virtue and vice, Mr. Cooper. There will be an accounting. Ask yourself where all the money comes from. The rich of the land. Your own family, too, Mr. Cooper. An audit, before the eyes of God and men. Our currency needs to be as virtuous as our thoughts.”

Charlie, unsure how to respond, simply nods. Renfrew appears to accept it as a sort of promise.

“Very well. And now, Mr. Cooper, I must ask you to lay aside your bashfulness and provide me with a full account of everything that has happened to you since you left school for the holidays. Everything the baron told you. What you have seen of his latest experiments. Or his wife’s, if the rumours about his ill health are true. I will also need to know where you were the past week, including a full list of names of the people you spoke to. Above all you must tell me what you saw that made you hide from the Naylors — oh, don’t bother denying it, why else did you not alert them to your whereabouts, you must think them implicated in the attack! You must also tell me where Miss Naylor is, and Mr. Argyle. That boy is very vulnerable. And a potential danger to those around him. In short, I have to insist on the truth. As your teacher. And as a servant of England.”

Charlie looks Renfrew in the eye. For all his insistence, there is no anger, no threat to him. He is stating Charlie’s duty, as he sees it. For a moment Charlie is tempted to oblige him. Pass on responsibility to this man who is so eminently responsible. Who watched a girl scream with pain for an hour. Who thought her a “specimen” that must be collected, and chained her to a wall.

“I am sorry, Master Renfrew. I cannot. I gave my word. As a gentleman.”

Renfrew appears saddened by his answer.

“Very well, Mr. Cooper. We must all follow our conscience.”

He turns, fetches a lamp from the table, nods towards the stairs.

“I suggest we retire. I will appeal to you again in the morning. Perhaps I can change your mind.”

ф

The guest room is small and plain but after a week of sleeping wrapped in filthy blankets the white feather bedding looks deliciously comfortable. Master Renfrew puts out a nightshirt for Charlie, and fills the washbowl with clean water, before leaving him to change in peace. For the briefest moment Charlie considers refusing the offer of hospitality and returning to the road. But it is snowing outside and even in the room the cold creeps into his bones. When he slips under the down duvet, such is the wave of well-being washing over him, he almost feels ashamed.