“Sit down,” Knowle said. “You, Mr. Darling, and Lady Waring. All of you.”

They sat. Chingford stepped back and Lord Flitby walked into the room. His mouth was set like a rat trap, a muscle pulsing in his jaw, and Will couldn’t help noticing that Chingford had waved him in with a movement of his gun.

Chingford and Knowle followed. A third man, also armed, was behind them, a big, bulky fellow with a contusion on his temple, who Will recognised now he got a good look at him. The last time he’d seen him—the last time before the pine wood, rather—he’d broken a knuckle on the fucker’s jaw.

The man knew him too, because their eyes met and held, and Will found his fists closing. Maisie gave a sharp hiss. “Phoebe—”

“I know, darling.”

It was Anton, the deceased Lord Waring’s chauffeur. He’d attacked Maisie at their last meeting and she’d knocked him unconscious with a candlestick. He clearly hadn’t forgotten because he gave her a leering smirk that promised vengeance.

“Wipe that off,” Will told him.

Phoebe wasn’t looking at Anton. Her eyes were fixed on Knowle. “I know you. You came to visit my father.”

“He’s Leo,” Kim said. “Eric Knowle of the Symposium Club.”

Phoebe gave a lift of the chin that conveyed withering contempt. Knowle remained unwithered. “I’m delighted to see you ladies here. That makes our business rather easier. Please take a seat, Lord Flitby.”

The Marquess obeyed, stiff-legged. Knowle closed the door and turned to face them all. “Allow me to outline the situation. I have already discussed it with Lord Chingford and your father, Lord Arthur. Your role is to listen and obey.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Kim said. “But go on.”

Knowle gave him a malevolent look. “You have put me in a very inconvenient situation. I had plans, Lord Arthur. I had ambitions, things to do, but you had to interfere, didn’t you?”

“I’d say you forced my hand. Or did you expect me to sit back and watch my brother hang?”

“Hang? I had the business entirely under control. It’s you who ruined my plans and put Lord Chingford in danger of his life. Without your interference, all would be well for him now.”

“You see?” Chingford said triumphantly.

“Oh, for— He intended you to hang for Fairfax’s murder, and he put the handkerchief and money in Quiller’s room to incriminate you,” Kim said. “What’s it going to take, Chingford?”

“Lord Chingford knows who’s on his side,” Knowle said. “And I’m grateful to him. Your organisation missed me only thanks to his timely warning. The ports and airfields are already watched and a manhunt is underway.”

“Good.”

“On the contrary. If I am arrested, it will be disastrous for everyone in this room.”

“You think?” Kim said. “Because, stop me if I’m wrong—”