Parkington, though he’d moved a few steps away, was likely still aware of everything that was happening around him.

Móirín eyed Barnabus with a look that indicated she had seen right through him to the things he didn’t care for anyone to see. Barnabus didn’t have time for her soul searching. He needed her help.

Turning away from Parkington, he whispered, “Do what you can to keep a distance between Gemma and our resident policeman, would you?”

“Jealous, are you?” Móirín whispered as well.

Barnabus shook his head. “That isn’t at all the reason for my concern.”

In an instant, understanding filled Móirín’s expression. “Seems there’s a great many things you’ve not told us.”

“Not everything’s mine to tell.”

“Yet even those things that are, you keep tucked away. I’m fearfully good at digging, Doc.” She was sharp, this intimidating Irishwoman.

“Watch over Gemma. That’s all I’m asking.”

“Aye. I’ll not let anything happen to her.” Móirín stepped away and rejoined Gemma, who was gabbing with Kumar and McCallister and their wives.

Parkington kept a keen eye on everyone. He wasn’t the sort to make a person feel uneasy under his scrutinizing gaze—unless, of course, one had reason to be.

And Gemma, though only Barnabus was fully aware of it, had more than ample reason.

Not even a quarter hour had passed when Fletcher caught Barnabus’s eye and motioned him to join him and Stone.

“We didn’t find anything helpful in the rubble.” With finesse born of experience, Fletcher managed to look as if they were having an insignificant conversation rather than a report regarding a clandestine search. “Gabbing with the people hereabout, it seems there were whispers that the couple who worked here and lived above the shop had been afraid on account of a letter they received.”

That sounded worryingly familiar. “Brogan’s wife received a great many unsettling letters before the fire that destroyed her home and business. The one set by the Mastiff.”

“I suspect that ain’t a coincidence,” Stone said.

Fletcher nodded. “Blackmail and arson are among the Mastiff’s specialties. I’d wager these people was being warned to do something or keep quiet about something, and they didn’t heed it.”

Barnabus took a moment to look around the area. He was somewhat familiar with it. “There’s a coach stop not far from here.”

He spent a lot of time near various coach stops and train stations. Young women often arrived in London by way of coaches and trains and were unexpectedly swept off by macks and madams before they even had a chance to piece together what was happening. His mother had fallen into that trap, which was why he did all he could to prevent others from living the life she subsequently had.