‘I’m sure I’m not qualified.’ Panic fluttered in her chest. ‘This was a mistake.’

But again, Mr Boothby wasn’t paying her any attention. He hailed a group of gentlemen who were approaching the staircase and bent to whisper in Harriet’s ear.

‘There ascends the legal team and witnesses for the waterworks company.’

Harriet tilted her head as if in acknowledgement, intending to break the contact between her cheek and the thin blade of Mr Boothby’s cold nose, but he had more to say and leaned closer. ‘They are attending the inquest into the catastrophe.’ It was all she could do not to shudder at his touch.

‘Mr Boothby, what am I supposed to do now?’

‘Wait here.’

He left her standing, striding away to confer with a gentleman whose arms were full of papers. Harriet smiled timidly at the man in a shabby overcoat and battered topper who was taking her in from head to toe and back again. The smile was not returned. Was this one of the petitioners for compensation? Harriet’s throat tightened. How could she help this aggressive person? She was unequal to the task and should not have agreed to undertake it.

‘This way.’

Mr Boothby was back. He guided her through a door at the far end of the foyer. It opened on a narrow corridor and he led her into the first room on the right, which was small and gloomy with a window that offered a view of the adjoining room rather than the outside world. A man in a police uniform glanced up from his desk and nodded. Harriet tentatively returned his nod and looked around the room. It was sparsely furnished with two chairs on either side of an oak desk, a worn carpet on the floor. A thick leather-bound ledger sat under a lamp on the desk, pen and ink and blotter laid out. Harriet sat behind the desk and tentatively rested her hand on the ledger.

‘Ah, a constable. You are in good company,’ said Mr Boothby. ‘Here, let us light the lamp. It’s rather gloomy in here. A clerk is coming who will explain precisely what you are to do. I imagine your task will be quite straightforward or they wouldn’t have a woman doing it, eh?’

Harriet laughed lightly through clenched teeth. ‘Indeed not.’ She would not give him the satisfaction of knowing he had infuriated her with his comment. ‘Thank you, Mr Boothby.’

‘I’ll return at five o’clock to escort you home.’

Harriet sat behind the desk and put her hand on the ledger. But it was not the task at hand that occupied her mind, however daunted she might be. Instead, she saw the youth on the bridge again, his delight when their eyes met, the thrill she had felt, that she felt still, and she dipped her head to hide the smile that she could not suppress.

Chapter 20

Silas supped his ale and smiled ruefully. Jim was explaining to the pub at large why his workmate was the soft arse of the week for buying useless trinkets from a girl in the street. They were sitting at a table in the King’s Arms where Silas had found lodgings. Handy for a pint. The hostelry was near the river but set at a good height, being perched halfway up a hill with a scribble of trees and bushes hiding the water from view, and therefore, as far as he could ascertain, safe and sound. He knew there was no longer a body of water hanging over the valley, but could not explain why the sight of the river set his pulse racing.