"Not much. I've learned that a man has been calling at all the homes of London vicars and asking after girls living in the same house. Daughters, wards, servants…"

"I'm sure that went down well. Did he know my name?"

"I don't think so, but I didn't know it at first, either. Not until I learned about the tragic disappearance of Anselm Holloway's daughter, two days ago."

"And you investigated further," I finished. "How did you learn the piece of information about the vicar? How did V.F.?"

He sat quite still, one palm flat on the polished tabletop. I thought for a moment he would keep that secret to himself, but then he answered. "A woman we'd been watching in Paris wrote to him. Her husband had died in suspicious circumstances here in England, and she'd exiled herself to Paris to avoid the police, and us, asking uncomfortable questions."

"You think she killed her husband?"

"I think she knew the killer and was possibly present for the murder. I also believe the murderer to be the man she wrote to, this V.F. Her husband's body was cut open and the brain used to—"

"Stop!" I pressed a hand to my lurching stomach and drew in a deep breath. "So you watched this woman in Paris and waited for her to send a communication. You must have intercepted the letter."

"I did. She'd written it in code and tried to have an unsuspecting couple deliver it, since the usual postal service would be too slow and unreliable. I intercepted and decoded it. The letter claimed she'd found the girl V.F. was seeking, and that she was living with a London vicar. I don't know how she learned that. I then made sure the missive found its way to V.F's hands."

"Thereby putting the girl—me—in danger."

"You weren't in danger because you weren't living with a London vicar."

"You didn't know that at the time."

"And I would not have allowed V.F. to capture you."

"Forgive me for doubting your competence on this, Mr. Fitzroy, but you are only three men, if you include Gus and Seth, and there are many vicars living in London. You couldn't watch them all."

The fingers on the table splayed wide.

"Tea," Seth announced, as he entered the library with a tray. Behind him, Gus followed, carrying a second tray laden with plates and slices of cake.

They set the trays down and began to pour and pass out plates. There was enough for them too. It would seem they were to join us. The household arrangement was odd, and I still wasn't sure whether the two men were supposed to be servants, assistants, or something else. Not friends. Fitzroy certainly didn't treat them as equals.

"You need a maid," I told Fitzroy.

"Aye," Gus muttered, as he handed me a plate.

"Or dress these two in livery."

Seth had been about to hand me a cup and saucer, but he held it back. "I am not wearing livery."