Still no answer, no name.

  ‘What if we don’t find Hannah by tomorrow?’ Rosie asked. ‘What are we going to do then? Just forget about her?’

  He could hear the reproof in her words.

  ‘I told you what Milner wanted.’

  ‘No. We don’t give up on this one, Simon,’ she told him. ‘Even if we make no money.’

  She was the one who looked after the books. Rosie knew to a penny how much they had in the bank account at Beckett’s. Simon Westow, a man with a house and an account at a bank. It still seemed impossible.

  She’d never suggested charity work before.

  ‘If that’s what you want.’ She had a good head on her shoulders. Something about the Milner girl had touched her.

  ‘I do,’ Rosie said. ‘I’ve been putting my mind to this. Whoever’s behind it knows you. If it comes to handing over the money, you can’t be there at the bridge. He’ll spot you. Jane can watch from one side, and I’ll take the other. We’re women; he’ll never notice us. Whichever way he goes from there, one of us can follow.’

  He tried to speak, but her voice rode over his.

  ‘Once we know where he’s gone, we’ll come back here for you.’

  ‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘I don’t want you taking the risk.’

  ‘Don’t you remember what you said?’ Rosie asked.

  ‘When?’

  ‘Years ago. When we were just beginning.’ She looked at him unblinkingly. ‘“It’s you and me in this together now.” Those were your exact words.’

  ‘But—’ he began. He’d said it, he remembered, and it was back to haunt him. He knew he was beaten. He never stood a chance against her. ‘Who’ll look after Richard and Amos?’

  ‘Mrs Marsden next door will take them for a few hours. She enjoys having them.’

  Rosie’s eyes shone. Her face glowed with the excitement of the chase.

  ‘We might still find her before that.’

  ‘I hope you do. That poor girl must be scared out of her wits by now. And I’d like to feel the weight of two hundred guineas. But in case you don’t … we’ll be prepared.’

  ‘Yes.’ He picked up his hat, ready to go out again.

  ‘There’s something else, Simon.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Even if you find Hannah, it’s not going to be over for whoever took her. Or for us.’

  The idea gnawed at him as he walked up Lower Briggate. Whores waited hopefully at the entrances to the courts and yards, caught in the murk of night. Someone opened a door and for a moment sound and light and laughter spilled out to fill the darkness. The London mail roared out of the King’s Arms, the driver shouting to urge on the horses. In the far distance, someone was singing a drunken song.

  He was alert, aware of people, shapes, all the sounds of the night.

  The Bull and Mouth was busy. A table of weary coach passengers ate their meal as the driver tried to hurry them along. Noise echoed up from the stable in the cellar. A pair of musicians played in one corner, fiddle and concertina hammering away at a tune.

  He saw the man standing at the bar. There was more grey in his hair than a year ago; it suited him. Clean-shaven, good clothes, he stood out among the battered travellers. Simon took a seat in the corner, off in the shadows, and waved for the potboy.

  ‘Brandy. And a drink for that man over there.’

  ‘I was just thinking about you this morning,’ Barnaby Wade told him after he’d come over and seated himself at the table.

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘A rumour at the coffee house. Someone was attacked by a pair of men last night.’

  ‘I hadn’t heard about that,’ Simon lied. ‘Why would that make you think of me?’

  ‘You’re the thief-taker.’ Wade smiled, showing a set of crooked teeth. ‘You’re the one who ends up in dangerous situations.’

  ‘Not too often. It wasn’t me.’

  The man shrugged. ‘If you say so.’

  Wade dealt in stocks and bonds. Nothing official, nothing quite legal. But enough to scrape him a living and sometimes pay a dividend or two. He’d been a lawyer once, before he was disbarred for offering bribes to the judges. Now he took advantage of men eager for quick money, and there was never any shortage of them. Wade knew how to write watertight contracts. No comebacks for fools in court. Over the years he’d proved to be a good well of information, one Simon returned to again and again. At times he almost seemed like a friend. For all that, though, he’d trust the man as far as he could throw him.

  ‘I heard one of the attackers died and the other ran off,’ he continued.

  ‘Too many footpads around since the soldiers came home,’ Simon said.

  Wade shook his head. ‘If it was me, I’d want to know who ordered it.’

  ‘Why would anyone order a robbery?’

  ‘And why would it matter, if you weren’t involved?’ Wade countered.

  ‘Maybe I’m curious.’ The smallest pause. ‘It’s my job, like you said.’

  ‘I’ve heard nothing more about it.’ Wade pursed his mouth. ‘That’s strange enough in a place like Leeds. You know what this town is like.’

  Simon nodded. Leeds was always a sea of rumours. ‘If you do hear something …’

  Wade raised his eyebrows, then gathered up his hat and cane. ‘You be interested? Of course.’

  Nothing mentioned, yet everything said.

  ‘Julius White,’ Mrs Rigton whispered.

  Jane nodded and left.

  ‘That’s not possible,’ Simon said. He stared in disbelief. ‘I don’t know who told you, but they have to be wrong.’

  ‘Why?’ All she’d done was speak the name.

  The table was littered with plates and mugs, the loaf torn half-apart. A single lamp hung from the beam, trapping them in a circle of light. Simon looked down, studying the grain of the wood. He could feel Jane and Rosie watching him.

  ‘Because he was transported to Australia. How long ago was it?’

  ‘Almost nine years,’ Rosie answered. ‘And good riddance, too.’

  ‘He must have completed his sentence,’ Jane said. ‘A pardon or whatever it is, and come back to England.’

  ‘Let’s hope to God he hasn’t,’ Simon told her. He swilled the dregs of the beer around and drank it down. ‘I was hired—’ He glanced at his wife. ‘We were hired to find a locket a maid had stolen when she ran off. White had it. When he was tried, he admitted he’d bought it. From a man, though, not the maid. That was what he said. Claimed he’d never laid eyes on the girl, but we couldn’t find hide nor hair of the other man. White was sentenced to seven years’ transportation.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Jane said. ‘Why are you so worried?’

  ‘Before I tracked down White, I found the servant’s body. She’d been raped and murdered.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘I never managed to find the evidence to see him tried for it.’

  ‘He also swore he’d see us dead,’ Rosie said quietly and looked at her husband. ‘Both of us.’

  EIGHT

  ‘How could he have come back without anyone knowing?’ Simon said.

  ‘Do you think he has Hannah Milner?’ Rosie asked. ‘Could he have paid two men to try and kill you—?’

  ‘And murdered the one still alive when they failed?’ he continued. ‘We both know the answer to that. It’s the kind of thing he’d do. So is the kidnap. He’s worked it well. If Milner caves in and pays, White’s going to be a rich man. Milner came to me to find his daughter, so White’s been able to hit two birds with one stone.’ He shrugged. ‘Perfect for him.’ He reached across the table and took Rosie’s hand.

  ‘At least we know who we’re fighting.’ She tried to smile. ‘What now?’

  ‘We sleep,’ he announced. ‘There’s nothing more we can do tonight. We’ll start hunting for Julius White in the morning.’

  Her body felt so familiar, curled against his in bed. The texture of her hair, the smell of her skin. But she was as tense as wire.

  ‘What about the boys?’ Rosie asked after a long time.

  He looked into the darkness. ‘I want you to keep the gate in the yard locked. And when I’m out, bar the front door and the back. Only open up for me or Jane.’

  ‘I’m not going to be a prisoner in the house, Simon.’ She sounded defiant, but he knew it was all bravado.

  ‘If you go out, keep the boys on the apron strings. Do you still carry a knife?’

  ‘Of course I do. Always.’

  ‘Then make sure it’s sharp and keep your hand on it.’

  Eventually she fell asleep. He listened to the softening of her breath, sensed the way her shoulders relaxed. He needed to rest, to be ready. But his thoughts refused to stop swirling.

  White had to be the man behind the kidnapping; he’d wager good money on it. The whole thing had his style. But to engineer it, he must have been back in Leeds for a while. The town had changed in the years he’d been gone. It had transformed itself. Industry had taken over.

  How could he have returned without anyone knowing? Not a whisper had gone around. That made no sense. Someone must have spotted him, talked to him. He’d hired people. How could he do that and stay invisible for so long? It wasn’t possible.

  Simon was up early, standing in the doorway of the boys’ room and watching them sleep before he left. A note for Jane and Rosie: meet at eleven.

  There was still a crispness in the air, but underneath, a real hint of spring warmth. Already the streets were creaking to life. Sullen men and women on their way to the early shift, carts delivering and carrying away. Passengers staring out blankly as their coach trundled off towards Leeds Bridge.

  He was aware of someone beside him, keeping pace, step for step. A small man with wild curly hair, his stock mis-tied, shoes dull and scuffed.

  ‘I hear you gave your evidence to the commission, Simon.’

  For a moment he had to think, to dredge it from his memory. His testimony about the workhouse and the factory. Three days ago. It might have happened in another lifetime.

  ‘For all the good it’ll do,’ he said.

  The man gave an encouraging smile. ‘It all helps, it all builds. Eventually they won’t be able to deny it.’

  Martin Holden was a Radical. An honest man. It shone in his eyes and his manner. He wanted a better England for everyone, not just the rich. Children working no more than ten hours a day.

  ‘I can’t talk about it now,’ Simon told him brusquely. ‘I have too much to do.’

  ‘Please, just a minute or two. To plan.’

  It was impossible to dislike the man. He was so earnest, his manner always heartfelt and intense.

  ‘Another time.’ His voice was softer. ‘I promise. Once this job I’m doing is over.’

  Holden gave a reluctant nod and went on his way.

  Simon tore from place to place, asking every familiar face about Julius White. None of them had seen him. No one had heard of his return. Finally, in a coffee house he saw Barnaby Wade again, smoking a cigar as he read the London papers.

  ‘Did you find anything?’

  ‘Not yet.’ He paused and cocked his head. ‘What is it, Simon? You look worried.’

  ‘Julius White is back.’

  ‘What?’ Wade stared. ‘He can’t be. We’d have known.’

  ‘That’s what I’ve been told.’

  ‘Dear Christ.’ He exhaled slowly. ‘Do you believe it?’

  ‘I do,’ Simon said. ‘I want to know where he’s staying, and who’s hiding him.’

  ‘I hoped we’d seen the last of him. Australia should have killed him.’

  ‘Apparently it didn’t. I need to know this morning. It’s important.’

  Wade pursed his lips. ‘I’ll do what I can.’

  Other stops, more questions and no answers. Then finally, close to ten, a walk out to Black Flags Lane.

  ‘Another early call, Simon,’ Lizzie Henry said when she received him. He’d been forced to wait a quarter of an hour when he could have used the time elsewhere, prowling restlessly around her parlour as she dressed and preened. ‘This is becoming a habit. I thought the list paid my debt to you.’

  ‘I’m here to give you some information.’

  A condescending smile. ‘And what could you know that’s worthwhile?’

  ‘More than you want to imagine.’ He waited until he had her full attention. ‘Julius White is back.’

  Lizzie Henry had been the one who prosecuted him for the theft that saw him transported. It was her locket that White stole. Her runaway servant he’d brutally murdered and raped.

  He watched her face grow pale under the thick coat of powder. Suddenly she looked her age.

  ‘How did you find out?’

  ‘It was Jane. The girl—’

  ‘I remember who she is. Is it true?’

  ‘Yes,’ he told her. ‘I believe it is.’

  ‘You know what people are like. They love tales.’

  She was casting around for hope. But he couldn’t give her any.

  ‘I can’t tell you. I haven’t seen him. But I’m sure he’s here.’

  ‘I heard that two men went after you. Does that have anything to do with this?’

  ‘Yes. And neither of them are still alive to say who hired them.’

  Lizzie nodded then, finally accepting it was real. ‘Thank you for warning me.’

  ‘Be careful,’ Simon said.

  ‘I will, believe me. Very careful.’

  Milner’s servant was waiting outside his door as Simon returned to Swinegate.

  ‘I knocked, but no one answered. My master instructed me to talk to you this morning.’

  ‘If you want good news, I don’t have any. Does he have the money?’

  ‘He does.’ The man’s voice stayed smooth and unperturbed. ‘But he told me to say he’s not happy at your failure.’

  ‘Then tell him that makes a pair of us. When I take a job, I like to complete it.’

  ‘I shall.’ The man never blinked, Simon realized. Just a constant gaze.

  ‘And I’ll finish this one. His … property will be returned, and his money. But he should keep the appointment.’

  ‘I will inform him. He told me to say that, having let him down once, you’d better not do it again.’

  Simon bristled. ‘And you’ve heard me. Enough?’

  ‘Ample.’ That short, mocking bow again and he left.

  Milner was the least of his worries now. It was less than an hour to the meeting on the bridge. No word from Wade about Julius White.

  Jane stood on Pitfall, in the lee of a building. Deep in the shadows, no one would see her, but she had a straight, clear view of Leeds Bridge. It was still five minutes before noon but Milner was already there, pacing restlessly up and down, seven steps each way, carrying a leather bag.

  It was difficult to believe so much money could fit into something so small, she thought. A thousand pounds. Enough to set anyone up in a comfortable life.

  She’d never heard of Julius White before last night. But the look on Simon’s face had told her all she needed. She’d never seen him scared before. This was different. This was real fear. Rosie had tried to mask her terror too, but it was plain on her face.

  But that hadn’t stopped her coming down the stairs in her best gown an hour ago, a dark blue muslin with embroidery on the neck and hem, with a softly-patterned woollen shawl and a hat that shaded her eyes. For a moment, Jane didn’t recognize her; Rosie seemed so different, so elegant, wearing the clothes as if they were nothing, carrying herself with a straight back and an easy walk.

  Now Rosie was somewhere on the other side of Leeds Bridge, keeping her own watch. The boys were settled at a neighbour’s house, and Simon would be waiting anxiously at home. She turned, craning her neck to see the clock on the church tower. One minute to twelve.

  Jane kept her eyes on the bridge, her right hand around the knife hilt, expectant, ready to move. She’d kill if she had to.

  The first time … she’d been plagued for a year after that. She’d lurch awake in the night, on the bench in Mrs Rigton’s beershop, sweat cold on her skin, the nightmare still galloping through her mind.

  She’d knifed the man to save herself. And the second time she had to do it didn’t weigh as heavily on her. The other night had felt like nothing. It was survival, nothing more.

  A movement on the bridge caught her eye and she held her breath. A young man was running, glancing over his shoulder as if someone was pursuing him. He dodged between carts, making a horse rear in its traces.

  But no one came after him. Jane pushed herself away from the wall. Something was wrong. The man leapt on to the pavement, speeding up. For a second he appeared to lose his balance, and knocked into Milner. Then he was speeding off again with the bag in his hand as the man shouted helplessly.

  So easy. So fast.

  Jane hurried away. He was coming to her end of the bridge. Which way would he go? She was at the top of Pitfall as he passed without noticing her. She followed quickly, quietly, walking, not running, always keeping him in sight. Another turn on to Call Lane and he slowed, clutching the bag close to his chest.

  Simon came out of the kitchen as soon as he heard the key in the door.

  ‘It was a lad. He ran into town,’ Rosie said as she unpinned the hat and tossed it on the kitchen table. As she described what had happened, she let down her hair and shook it out. The words tumbled from her mouth. He listened, but for a moment all the sounds were meaningless; in her swift, innocent gestures he could see the girl he’d met at the mile marker.

  ‘We’ll have to hope Jane can keep up.’ She reached for his mug of ale and drank.

  ‘She will.’ He had no doubt of that. Jane had the gift for it.

  ‘I was scared, Simon.’ She held her hand up. It was shaking. ‘I kept thinking White would see me and remember.’

  ‘He’ll be staying far out of sight.’

  White was clever. He was sly and dangerous. Simon doubted the money would buy Hannah Milner’s freedom. Her father had plenty in the bank and he’d shown he was willing to spend it to save her. A thousand now, a demand for more tomorrow, maybe the day after, to let Milner stew and worry.

  Unless Simon could find her first. But he knew he’d done a poor job so far.