His honest, inquiring look was heart-breaking.

Harriet cleared her throat. ‘I’ll make a note of it. Can I clarify, you lost all your children and your wife?’

‘Aye. I were out, doin’ a night shift. House got swept away.’ He gazed into the adjoining room where the constables filed their reports. It was empty today.

His hands stopped their restless movement. ‘Elise, that were me wife’s name. Lovely, in’t it? Elise.’

‘Yes, it is. It is a very lovely name.’ Harriet dropped her eyes to the page so he would not see the tears in them and busied herself with her pen. ‘Now, Mr Crookes, I think we could include more in your claim, if you are agreeable. We can but ask.’

At noon, the clerk came to tell her that she was not required for the rest of the day.

‘Am I to return tomorrow?’ said Harriet.

‘I’m not sure. I’ll check and let Mr Boothby know.’ He smiled at her over the top of his spectacles. ‘You have been of great service.’

‘Oh.’ She could not hide her disappointment. ‘Well, I have greatly enjoyed the work. It is gratifying, to feel useful. If there’s anything else I can do…’

‘You are very kind. Thank you. Excuse me.’ He hurried off.

Harriet was thankful she had informed Mr Boothby that she would not require his escort home today, supplying the pretext that an unaccompanied stroll would clear her head, and promising not to linger on the street. She had her stick to lean on to save her foot.

So there was no reason to wait, following her early dismissal. Still, she found herself wandering across the foyer, between the tall columns she had found so imposing on first sight, away from the door that led into the street. Perhaps she could find an official and offer herself up for a new voluntary role. She stopped at the tall window near the staircase and leaned on the ledge, observing the uniformed officials, gentlemen and working folk, chatting in groups of two or three, or striding purposefully about. She had been one of them.

A man was walking towards her. He was fiercely bearded and had a determined set to his brow. Was he going to ask her to leave, accuse her of loitering? He caught her gaze with kind brown eyes, smiled at her and tipped his hat. Harriet smiled back and watched him stride past her and up the staircase. He had a purpose. She wondered what it was.

Well, she could not rest here all day. Just a moment longer.

Mr Boothby entered the building. Harriet smiled wryly to herself. Was he here to check up on her, as her self-appointed guardian, or to conduct business of his own? It was a shame that now she must tell him her work was done. She straightened her cape and put on her bonnet. Perhaps, if she requested it, he would find another occupation for her. He had secured this job for her, after all. She was reminded of the poor man she had interviewed that morning. She would relate his tale on the walk home. Mr Boothby always offered a sympathetic ear when she told him of the poor souls who were seeking compensation from the waterworks company, and would quiz her on the size and nature of the day’s claims as though he was testing her capacity for recollection. She was pleased to impress him, especially if it led to further employment. Harriet raised her hand in greeting.