“The word ‘badly’ comes to mind. I hate waiting on events.”

“It is no consolation, but Mrs. Brockman and Mr. Dell are doing a fine job in recruiting investors. It will be my job to ensure that those investors stay with us, whatever might happen, especially if we are amassing orphans as we go along.”

*   *   *

We all caught the train in good time. Sykes and I sat opposite each other, near the door. The Arkwrights and Milly were by the window. The engine settled into its soothing rhythm of clank and hum. My painful wrist throbbed in tune. I was wearing a plaid cape that was easier to deal with than a coat.

I had confided in Raynor about my intention to seek out Kevin O’Donnell, but we agreed to spare Benjie the pain of any disclosure until we knew more.

Sykes fully expected that he would seek out Giant Jack, and I would go to the children’s holding centre, with our documentation, and bring back the orphans. He took out a cigarette.

When I said, “We’ll do it the other way round, Mr. Sykes,” his cigarette lighter stopped in mid-air.

“Are you mad? You want to tackle a man who’s the size of a mountainside, and leave me to gather up kiddies?”

Sykes did not need to know that Raynor had forged two out of three signatures. He would be less than happy about that. Nor would I tell him my deeper reason for not gathering up the children myself. Going into the holding centre would break my heart. The wartime images in my mind are sufficient for a lifetime’s nightmares. For the present, in my weakened state, I could take no more.

“There are good reasons why you should pick up the children. You are a dad, and you will know how to reassure them. Red tape is involved, which means officious officials will make the transaction as difficult as possible. You only have to adopt the ‘I am every inch a policeman’ look and they will roll over. I, on the other hand, with my arm in a sling and a bruise on my cheek would have to expend a great deal of energy trying not to look pathetic.”

He lit his cigarette. “And why should a woman with a broken arm –”

“Wrist.”

“ — and bruises confront a great stoit who can stop a horse and cart with his little finger?”

“I’ll be no threat to him. If we’re right, and he was the one who did the lifting and carrying, and put the body on the train, he’ll know that at the very least he could face prison. At worst, he is an accessory to murder. He’s bound to be a Catholic, and will want to confess, if he hasn’t already. I’ll coax him into telling the truth.”

“Then let me be standing by, round the nearest corner.”