Simon draws out the other chair from under the table and sits down opposite her: she the culprit, he the interrogator. He even looks a little like Sergeant Redmayne now, with his frozen features.

‘No, it cannot be Montague,’ he says at last. ‘I can assure you that he will never make a claim upon the boy now.’

‘How can you possibly know that?’

He hesitates. ‘I took the opportunity to consult the naval lists after our last conversation. I wanted to put your mind at ease on one score, at least.’ A forlorn smile plays about his lips. ‘You used to check them yourself, constantly. You were always looking for Lieutenant Montague … Tell me, when did you stop?’

She lowers her gaze to the table. ‘I cannot recall. I suppose I listened to you, Simon. You said that it was not a healthy occupation for me.’

‘Nor was it.’ He drums his fingers upon the wooden table. They both stare at them, seeking answers in the rhythm. ‘I have been considering how best to tell you this, Miss Darken. At times, I doubted whether I should tell you at all. But I think you have a right to know.’

Her breath catches. ‘You found him?’

‘I found a Captain Montague, of the HMS Raptor.’

He made captain! Why does that still cause Agnes’s heart to swell with pride? ‘Good God,’ she gasps. ‘You have really found him, after all these years. Where?’

She must write to him. Tell him that her nephew is missing – she need not explain the full truth. She could simply beg that he use his influence and put pressure upon the police. With a naval captain and an eminent physician demanding answers, surely they will make it a priority to find Cedric?

The man she knew would not hesitate to be of assistance. He had possessed a great regard for her father. He only went away because he thought it was best for the family, but now it is clear that Constance has gone and Agnes needs him … Is she being too optimistic to believe that he might sail back?

But Simon is biting the peeling skin on his lower lip. He has not answered her question.

‘Please tell me where he is stationed!’ she urges.

‘My dear Miss Darken … I cannot.’ Simon bows his head. ‘He has recently … passed from this world.’

All air leaves the room.

‘H-he what?’

‘I am afraid he succumbed to yellow fever.’

She can feel nothing, which makes no sense, for this is the most pain she has ever been in.

Montague is gone. Gone forever.

She cannot make herself believe it.

‘Miss Darken? Do you need me to fetch your salts?’

Salts! She nearly bursts into laughter. What use are salts? Simon may be a doctor, but he cannot stitch up what is beyond repair. To lose Montague and Cedric both, in one day!