“I’ve already been to see Simon,” Sir Barnabas said without looking up from the papers on his desk. “Don’t ring a peal over my head about it. He’s fine.” He looked up and blinked twice, and Robert got the impression it was an uncharacteristic reveal of surprise.

“Constable Manderley,” Sir Barnabas said politely. His gaze cut to his secretary standing nervously behind them. “What a surprise.”

Even Robert, who didn’t know Sir Barnabas well, could tell the innocuous remark was meant as a severe set down for the secretary rather than any sort of greeting for him.

“I’m sorry, sir,” his secretary said, his voice smoothly modulated. He’d been trained well. Robert would have been shaking in his boots over that look. “He wasn’t on the list, and since he was accompanying Mr. Steinberg, I assumed he was permitted.”

“Never assume,” Sir Barnabas said, smiling at Robert. Because of the smile it took a moment for his words to register. Robert stiffened his spine.

“I do beg your pardon,” he said, proud of his cool but polite tone. “If I am interrupting I will make an appointment and come back another time.”

“Don’t be rude, Barnabas,” Daniel snapped. “I daresay it is not overly dramatic to say someone’s life depends on it. The constable needs to have a word with you, please.”

Sir Barnabas assessed Robert for a moment, then he relaxed back in his chair with a sigh and threw his pen down on his desk. “Fine. Let’s get this over with. I won’t get a moment’s peace if I don’t. What happened to you?” He turned his razor-sharp gaze on Daniel and barked out the question like it was an order.

“I got shot. If you’ve been to see Simon, then I assume you already know this and chose not to come see about my welfare.” He held up his hand and stopped Sir Barnabas’s denial before he could say a word. “Don’t bother to deny it.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Sir Barnabas said. “People love to regale one with their tales of woe when it comes to physical injuries. I thought I was being polite by asking. You have now rendered the niceties of polite discourse unnecessary. My thanks. What do you want?” he asked Robert, turning his predator’s eyes upon him with the speed and accuracy of a hungry hawk.

“Me? Oh, yes. Well, I am working on a case, you see,” Robert said, trying to gather his thoughts. He’d heard that Sir Barnabas James could scramble a man’s wits with a look and hadn’t believed it until this moment, but then he’d never been the recipient of one of his infamous looks before. He’d avoided these particular hallowed halls at the Home Office. “Boys. Murdered boys, that is. In the East End.”

“Working a case? As a constable? How unusual,” Sir Barnabas said sarcastically. “Let me put all the nation’s business here aside while I listen to the fascinating details of your case.” With each word Robert’s temper flared hotter.

“You, sir, are even more intolerable than Daniel led me to believe,” he said stiffly, standing up and putting on his hat. “It is apparent you have no desire to help a lowly constable such as myself solve the murders of poor, unimportant boys from the streets when you could be saving the empire and gaining favor. Don’t let me keep you from the nation’s business. I shall go about mine. Good afternoon, sir.”

He turned to leave, unsettled by his uncharacteristic show of anger. He had only taken one step when he was halted by the sound of a slow clap behind him.

“Bravo,” Sir Barnabas drawled. “Damn me if you don’t sound just like Wetherald. Really, Daniel, I get speeches at home from Ambrose that always embroil me somehow in trying to save the world. Now you’re bringing it to my office as well? Is this a conspiracy against me? Doesn’t one of your doltish friends need rescuing? That’s at least entertaining more often than not.”

“You are in fine form today,” Daniel told him. “Much more churlish than usual. Any particular reason you’d like to share?”

“Hastings,” Sir Barnabas said. “Again. Always Hastings. The man is a thorn in my side.”

“Fire him,” Daniel told him. “Problem solved. Now help Robert.”

“You know I can’t fire him,” Sir Barnabas said impatiently. “I’ve invested a great deal of time and effort in training him. He is privy to state secrets. To my secrets.”

“Kill him,” Daniel said dispassionately.

“Daniel,” Robert protested, taking his hat off and going back to sit down. “You can’t just kill a man.”

“Why not?” Daniel asked. Robert was quite concerned at the genuine look of puzzlement on his face.

“I take the blame for that,” Sir Barnabas said, and Robert looked over to see a flash of regret on his face as he watched Daniel.

“Now who’s being melodramatic?” Daniel asked. “I like Hastings, by the way, so I won’t do it.”

“You don’t work for me anymore,” Sir Barnabas reminded him.

“No, I don’t. Does Simon?”

The question seemed to take Sir Barnabas aback. “No,” he answered, and Robert believed he was being truthful. “Why?”

“He blew up the compound, Barnabas,” Daniel said wryly. “We could have slipped out unnoticed, but he decided he needed to blow up the damn compound and free everyone.”

“Don’t look at me,” Sir Barnabas said defensively. “I’m not the one with a bloody conscience. Look to those bleeding hearts you surround yourself with. Or yourself, who took it upon himself to be the avenging angel of St. Giles, with Simon your ever-faithful hound, following in your footsteps? You of all people shouldn’t have been surprised by his act of martyrdom.”

“Martyrdom my arse,” Daniel grumbled. “I’m the one who got shot for it.”

“You’re getting slow in your old age,” Sir Barnabas said sadly. “It was bound to happen.”

“Wait. You’re the Angel of St. Giles?” Robert asked, confounded. At his question both Daniel and Sir Barnabas snapped their mouths shut, and it was quite obvious nothing short of an act of Parliament would get an answer out of them. He didn’t need one, however, since their silence spoke as loudly as any words could.

The Angel was a shadowy figure that had haunted the streets of St. Giles for several years, ruthlessly meting out justice when the law was unable or unwilling to do so. The constabulary had been unable to discover his identity and the criminal class had been unable to stop him. Robert was flabbergasted to discover it had been Daniel. And apparently Simon, of course. Add avenging angel to his list of accomplishments.

He did not wish to discuss Simon’s heroics again. Was there ever a man as perfect as Simon Gantry? As handsome and heroic and irresistible?

“What exactly did Hastings do?” he asked, bringing the conversation back around.

“Disobeyed an order,” Sir Barnabas said. “He killed a man he was supposed to bring in alive. I needed to question him. He had valuable information. Hastings has a nasty habit of killing first and asking questions second.”

“I…don’t think that’s possible,” Robert said, frowning.

“What an excellent constable you must be,” Sir Barnabas said sarcastically. Suddenly his face cleared and a smile broke that was almost as frightening as it was attractive in a predatory, feral sort of way. “Indeed, quite excellent,” he said thoughtfully. “Trained in the proper methods of suspect apprehension and interrogation, I presume. You do have an impressive arrest record. A veritable young star among the city’s constabulary.”

“How do you know that?” Robert asked.

Sir Barnabas went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “Hastings has already made contact with some informants concerning the murders,” he mused. “At least seven of the boys were well-known couriers for various employers. The spy network is being slowly choked off. The last boy, however, was not a courier. He was the spy. But no one seems to know who he worked for.”

“What? Spies?” Daniel said incredulously. “You knew why we were here? You’re already working this case?”

“Of course,” Sir Barnabas said, raising one eyebrow in a very superior look. “Don’t I always? Didn’t you expect me to? Isn’t that why you came?”

“So are you taking my case away from me?” Robert asked, his teeth clenched in anger. It was his case. Those boys were his. No matter what Sir Barnabas said, Robert would find their killer. This spy nonsense made no difference.

“Of course not,” Sir Barnabas told him. “You have been first on the scene at all the murders. You and Mr. Longfellow have gathered all the evidence. You have detected patterns. No. What I am proposing is a partnership. I shall send Hastings to you, and you shall work together.”

“Oh, Barnabas,” Daniel said, trepidation in his voice. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

“Will he have information that can help me solve these murders and prevent more deaths?” Robert asked Sir Barnabas.

“Yes.”

“Then send him to me tomorrow morning,” Robert said, ignoring Daniel’s warning.

“With pleasure.”

Sir Barnabas’s smile reminded Robert of a snake. He just hoped this decision didn’t come back to bite him before they were done.