“Please don’t think I intend to hide my actions. I even considered informing Mr. Trout this morning, but his political allegiances are somewhat unclear. It would be easy to use this situation to discredit my party. Unconscionable, of course, but very easy indeed. The facts of the matter are these. The baron is planning something — or, if the rumours are true and he has gone mad, his wife is. There is some evidence of their purchasing laboratory equipment from abroad. Don’t misunderstand me. I am a scientist myself and regard the embargo as a folly beyond measure. The old order is moribund. Under the masquerade of virtue it is trying to stop the march of science — of truth! — simply to protect its own interests and prolong its life. All the same a change is coming, a mighty change, one can smell it on the wind these days. But here is the thing, Mr. Cooper. This change — this revolution — it can take many forms. We can have order, or we can have chaos. I — my party, the men concerned for the moral future of the realm — we need to know whether to protect Baron and Baroness Naylor and their projects, or to stop them.

“Did you know that there was a motion not long ago to have the Naylor estate placed under surveillance? Not in Parliament, of course, but in one of the parliamentary committees, the ones that dare to think outside the conventional norms. It was debated very seriously. The trouble is, we are lacking in an executive. A police force. It is said England has secret government agents, but if so, who do they work for? Who gives the orders? Oh no, Mr. Cooper! If we want virtue, it will take ordinary good men to step up and make the business of the country their own. Whatever the risk.

“Don’t imagine then that I will not take full responsibility for my actions, Mr. Cooper. Here, I am writing a report even as we speak. I will send it with the evening mail, along with your statement. Oh, I know, you think what I am doing is a great crime. No doubt your parents will insist on my dismissal once they learn that I have detained you. They may even press criminal charges.”

He pauses, closes his eyes, opens them again. His gaze is serene.

“The Smoke would warn me, Mr. Cooper. If I was doing wrong.”

A curl of grey drifts out of Charlie in response. Renfrew takes no notice. Instead, he takes hold of Charlie’s hand, helpless in its restraint, and speaks quietly at him in tender appeal.

“I was never a utilitarian, Charlie, but for the first time I feel the force of Mr. Bentham’s argument. The happiness of the many outweighs the happiness of the few. Who are we to spare ourselves when a million souls are at stake?