He’d grown more heated as he spoke. “Ye tell the Earl of Seafield all of that,” said Moray, then revised the thought. “No, give me paper and your pen, I’ll write it for myself, for I would have the words my own.”

It was the second time that I had waited while he wrote a letter, watched him fold it so it sealed itself, and took it from his hand.

He said, “I also have a message for my wife, but this one I’ll not trust to paper. Tell her I love her. That her words did bring me warmth in this cold place, as did her news about the bairn, but she must write to me no more. Tell her to take our son and go now to her father’s house where they’ll be better guarded. What is coming will be dangerous.”

He coughed, and from his smallest finger took a gold ring that had been inscribed inside with writing, and said, “Send this with it, so she’ll know the message comes from me.”

I gave a short nod, and I stood, and slid the ring onto my finger, thinking that the guard would be less likely to take note of it if he believed it to be mine. I tried to frame my next words carefully. “The last time I was here, you asked why the Commissioners of the Equivalent would bother with the inquiry at all, when they could have dismissed it and saved themselves the effort.”

“It’s a fair question.”

“I’ve found out the answer,” I said. “The commissioners were unaware of Lily’s claim. They weren’t the ones who did arrange for the inquiry.” I told him about Helen’s cousin, and what she had learned from him.

“I see,” said Moray. “That is interesting.”

“The Earl of Seafield knows about the inquiry. He mentioned it at dinner, though he said that it was secret, and that it was being done at the direction of a member of the high court. I assume he meant Lord Grange.” Here I paused and looked to Moray, who confirmed that Lord Grange was in fact a member of the High Court of Justiciary. As with anyone who’d ever faced a complex lock, I knew I’d have to spring each pin in proper order before it would open. “Gilroy is the only person who has mentioned the commission. You know both men—Gilroy and Lord Grange. What can you tell me of their character?”

Moray had stayed seated, which in any other conversation would have meant that I had the advantage, but in this case he was clearly in command. He took his time deciding how to answer. “Anything I tell ye will be of less use than your own observations. Do I know them? I know what they let me see of them, and whether that is what they truly are, I cannot say. Gilroy does seem to be a man who follows orders and is loyal, though he lies as coldly as a politician when he’s called upon to do it. As for Lord Grange, I have known him long, yet know him very little. ’Tis his brother who’s my friend.”