The cab dropped them off outside Doctors’ Commons. Fletcher went first, glaring at anyone who did not instantly move out of her way. She was head and shoulders taller than most women and her black bombazine gown and cloak gave her the appearance of a carrion crow. With her aggressive attitude she seemed ready to attack anyone who had the nerve to stand in her way, and Rosalind entered unchallenged. The old building smelled of dusty books and ancient vellum, and they were guided to the Prerogative Office, where she spotted Alexander hunched up in one of the small booths along one side of the room. The walls were lined with shelves from floor to ceiling, each one crammed with documents in ancient leather bindings that must have been there for a couple of centuries, at a guess. An official barred their way but a steely glance from Fletcher made him change his mind and he sidled off to speak to a gentleman who was requesting information.

Rosalind crossed the floor and leaned into the booth. ‘Alex.’

He looked up with a start and for a moment he simply stared at her, but a sudden smile of recognition was wiped away by a worried frown. ‘Rosie! What in the name of heaven are you doing here? This isn’t the place for you. How did you know where I was?’

‘Colonel Munday told me. Don’t blame him, Alex. I would have come looking for you anyway.’

‘Blanchard, get on with your work.’ A small plump man wearing a greentinged jacket and trousers padded up to them, glaring at Alexander. ‘May I be of assistance, madam?’

‘No, sir. Thank you, but I need to speak to Captain Blanchard.’

‘He’s not a captain here, ma’am. We do not encourage our clerks to have visitors.’

Fletcher moved towards him. ‘Who says?’

The small man quivered. ‘It’s the law.’

‘Go away,’ Fletcher hissed.

‘I’ll have you evicted, miss.’ He spoke boldly but he backed towards the door.

‘Don’t anger me, friend,’ Fletcher said between clenched teeth. ‘I ain’t nice when I gets cross.’

‘I see you have a champion,’ Alexander said, chuckling. He put down his pen and folded the document he had been copying. ‘We can’t talk here.’ He stood up and edged free from the narrow space. ‘Let’s go outside.’

The small man cleared his throat noisily. ‘If you leave now you won’t come back, Blanchard. This is a place of law and you should respect your position.’

Alexander reached for his coat and unhooked it from a manybranched coat stand. ‘As Mr Dickens said in Oliver Twist, the law is an ass – an idiot. Good day, sir.’

Fletcher chuckled. ‘I couldn’t have said it better meself, cully.’