All right, slow down, he told himself. He didn’t actually know what Kim had in mind, and they hadn’t had time to talk. The least he could do was withhold judgement till he’d heard the slippery bugger out.

Unfortunately, he probably wouldn’t get a hearing till Kim was a bit less highly strung. He was twanging with nerves right now, badly overstretched, and he’d sounded desperate. He was in a bad situation, one that Will had made even worse.

And, he reflected as he walked on and cooled down, he hadn’t done it to defend Kim’s honour, no matter what he’d like to believe. He’d thumped Cheveley because he’d lost his rag, nothing more, and losing his temper was not an excuse for anything.

“You made a mess of that, Darling,” he muttered to himself.

He couldn’t do anything to fix that. There might be something else he could do, though, which he hadn’t had time to tell Kim about earlier. If it worked, it might go some way to support the apology he probably—God damn it—needed to make.

He strode home to the bookshop with that resolution, and placed a call to the Symposium Club. He didn’t give his name.

The staff were very efficient indeed. Within just a few moments, he had a voice on the line. “Hello there. George Yoxall speaking.”

“Hello,” Will said, crossing his fingers. “Could you tell me, am I speaking to Captain James Yoxall’s son?”

“Nephew, actually, and he’s Lord Witton now,” said the voice. “Still, it’s much of a muchness. Who’s speaking? Is this about Uncle Jimmy? Is something wrong?”

“Nothing like that. My name’s William Darling. I served with Captain—Lord Witton—in the war. I was one of the Yoxall Raiders.”

“Oh, were you?” Yoxall’s voice increased appreciably in warmth. “Pleased to—well, not meet you, but you know what I mean. What can I do for you?”

“Uh. This is a bit awkward but did you have a run-in with Paul Fairfax recently? The man who was killed at the Symposium?”

A short silence. “I say, what’s this about?”

“I’m not looking to make trouble,” Will said hastily. “Only I’d be very grateful if I could ask you about it, off the record sort of thing. I’ve got good reason. Could we meet? It would be a lot easier to explain that way.”

“Umph,” Yoxall said. “I can’t say I much want to discuss this.”

“It really is important.”

“Yes but— Well, if you’re one of Uncle Jimmy’s chaps... Oh, all right. Can you be at the St. James Tavern in an hour?”

***