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“What sorts of rows?”

Barclay uncrossed his arms and rested his hands on the tabletop, running one fingertip along a worn groove in the wood. To Gideon’s surprise, a fond smile softened the man’s sharp features.

“Calliope was a bit of a… I wouldn’t say matchmaker, but she liked gossiping about people’s affairs, people’s entanglements, let us say. She was always like that. Forever asking about Meg and Alice and the girls who work here and the beaus that they are fighting off or smitten with. She was entertained by it all.”

“And how does that relate to rowing with Miss Delacourt?”

“Well, uh, she said Miss Delacourt was in love. Her first love, she said. And, uh, she did say she had offered her own lodgings for Miss Delacourt to meet with her gent.” He gestured over his shoulder. “Calliope had lodgings over on Burn Street. Just a single room, and apparently, she allowed Miss Delacourt to use the room for…”

“Assignations?” Gideon prompted.

Barclay gave a brief nod.

“With whom?”

Barclay held his hands up. “Now that she never told me. But she did mention that Miss Delacourt had misgivings about it all. Said it had to be a secret. I think the most tantalizing bit for Calliope was that this gent was already taken, and so Miss Delacourt felt guilty. Calliope teased her about it, and that’s why they rowed.”

“The gentleman was taken by whom?”

“Calliope never mentioned any names.”

“Did you ever hear Miss Delacourt discuss this on the two occasions when you met her?”

“No. At the tea shop, the ladies were talking about the work they were doing at the museum. And then the time they visited the pub, Miss Delacourt did seem a bit dispirited. That’s why Calliope bought her a pint.”

Gideon could not decide whether it sounded as if Calliope Collier had cared for Iris or whether she was simply amused by her shy nature.

“Did Miss Delacourt strike you as shy?”

“Very much so,” Barclay agreed, “but Calliope was determined to draw her out, make her enjoy herself, as Calliope said.”

“Did Miss Collier give Miss Delacourt her key?” Electra asked.

Barclay seemed surprised by Electra’s interjection, as if he’d almost forgotten that she sat observing them quietly. His frown eased when he looked her way. “Yes, miss, Calliope gave her the spare key to her flat on the days she was to meet her gentleman.”

Gideon thought he saw the merest hint of color rise in the man’s cheeks.

“Calliope’s murder,” Barclay said of a sudden, his eyes searching Gideon’s face and then Electra’s. “Do you know anything about what’s been found? Does Hardy have the one who’s done it?”

“I’m afraid I don’t, Mr. Barclay,” Electra told him in a gentle tone.

“I didn’t hurt her,” he told Electra, a sudden pleading quality in his voice. “Struck her once, but it was an accident. And I will always feel guilty about it. But she would have told you it was an accident too.”

He dipped his head a moment, clasped his hands together on the tabletop. “People think, because of what I do, that I’m a violent man by nature. I’m not. I do it for money. That’s all. Not because I’m angry. But sometimes I do drink a bit too much.” He hung his head after the confession, and his shoulders shook as if he was wrestling some powerful emotion.

“Are you…all right, Mr. Barclay?” Electra reached out and laid a bare hand against his much larger one where it rested on the tabletop.

Gideon hadn’t even noticed her removing her gloves.

Barclay immediately snapped his head up and stared down at where she touched him, his expression softening. “Thank you, miss. I miss her is all.”

Electra nodded and then withdrew her hand. “Of course you do.”

Gideon studied her expression but could not tell whether she’d seen anything when she touched the barman or not.

“Can you think of anyone else that Miss Collier would have told about this gentleman that Miss Delacourt was seeing?” Gideon asked.

“Calliope had a lot of acquaintances, but she swore me to secrecy, so I can’t imagine she was telling many people.”