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Baines suppressed a smile. He had begun to suspect that Pembroke’s absent-mindedness concealed a considerable intelligence, although he had no wish to mistake cleverness for guilt. Plenty of men preferred to appear foolish rather than endure the consequences of being considered capable. Baines himself had spent years encouraging acquaintances to believe that his principal interests consisted of horses, cards and attractive women, and he could hardly condemn another gentleman for employing a similar defence.

Still, Pembroke had displayed an unexpectedly precise understanding of military affairs during their previous conversation, and Baines would not forget.

The two men sat before Renforth leaned forward and lowered his voice. Pembroke, who had been examining the Madeira in his glass, raised his head and listened.

His expression changed. The vague amusement vanished, and for several moments he appeared wholly absorbed in what the Colonel was saying.

Then he shook his head. Baines could not hear his answer, but he saw Renforth reply and Pembroke lean back in his chair.

A moment later Pembroke rose too quickly, caught the edge of the small table with his coat and sent a silver snuffer clattering to the carpet.

Baines sighed. “There goes another casualty.”

“At least it was not the Madeira.”

“Give him time.”

The gentlemen emerged shortly afterwards. Pembroke appeared thoughtful as he returned to the drawing room, but when Mrs. Pembroke asked what had detained him, he smiled and declared that the Colonel had been kind enough to explain a political matter he understood no better than before.

His wife patted his sleeve. “Then I hope you did not waste too much of his time, dear.”

“I fear I wasted nearly all of it.”

Renforth joined Baines beside the mantel.

“How did it go?” Baines asked.

“He understood the implications.”

“Did he?”

“Immediately. He wished to know whether I possessed the original correspondence or merely copies, and whether the payments had passed through a bank.”

Baines raised his eyebrows. “That is rather more practical than his usual observations.”

“Indeed. He also warned me against accusing a gentleman upon the evidence of financial transactions alone. Such payments might have entirely innocent explanations.”

“A reasonable objection.”

“Very reasonable. He became particularly concerned when I mentioned that the correspondence might implicate others who had no knowledge of its purpose.”

Baines glanced towards Pembroke, who was now attempting to persuade his wife that he had not misplaced the book he had been carrying earlier.

“Perhaps he is merely a decent man.”

“Perhaps. We shall see whether he remains content to leave the matter in my hands.”

Renforth moved away before Baines could ask anything further, and Judith appeared at his side with the quiet efficiency that made him wonder whether she had somehow learned to move through the house without touching the floor.

“Has he spoken to Mr. Pembroke?”

“Yes. He asked sensible questions.”

“How inconvenient of him.”

“Exceedingly. I should much prefer our suspects to announce their intentions plainly.”

Judith smiled, and Baines felt an absurd measure of satisfaction at having earned it.