With one last glare, Camden strode away. Silence pulsed in his absence for a few moments. Then Red said, “What have you done to your hair? It’s all grey.”

Drake laughed and turned to the street they must cross. “I was doing some reconnaissance. And have a bit for you to do tomorrow, too, if you will.” As they made their way across the largely empty street and through the front door of Dot’s building, Drake gave him a bare outline of the suspicious character and how he was in need of a spot of help in following him.

“You know I’m happy to help,” Red replied, though the words did nothing to erase the confusion in his tone. He must be wondering why Drake thought he had enemies here in London, why he’d be willing to pay him to help root them out. But Drake couldn’t tell him that, so hopefully the speculation would remain unspoken.

He heaved a sigh and looked up as they crossed the threshold of the building and came to the never-ending rise of stairs. “Why couldn’t she have found a flat in a building with a lift?”

Red chuckled and gripped his elbow again. “We’ll manage it. One step at a time.” Then, “Who has spoken for Dot?”

That hadn’t taken long. Drake grinned and hooked the handle of his cane over his arm so he could grip the handrail. “No one. But I didn’t want him getting ideas. Camden’s the sort of bloke who would defend a friend to the death—but not one to be trusted with one’s sister.”

“Ah.” Relief saturated the short syllable.

Drake shook his head and took the first step. Then the next. “Though if you’re so worried, you could speak for her.”

Those fingers on his elbow tightened again. “Why would you even suggest that, Elton? I’m no better a prospect for your sister than he is. I’ve no income, no future—”

“You’re a good man in bad circumstances, Red. But circumstances change. Yours will too.” One of the queries he’d sent to his father’s old friends would surely pan out. Or some other opportunity would arise. Red wouldn’t be left like this forever, not when he was willing and able to work.

“Even so. What’s the best I can hope for? Manual labor. Hardly something that could support a girl like your sister, who’s used to the finer things. Who deserves the finer things.”

“My sister can get on quite well whatever her lot—and don’t you dare sell her short by implying otherwise.” Not to mention that Dot was part owner in their shipping company as well. A fact that did neither of them any good at the moment, but it would someday, when the war was over.