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Baines immediately regretted the honesty. It was the sort of statement which changed the character of a conversation and made retreat difficult.

Her voice softened. “You have known me for less than a week.”

“I have distrusted men for considerably less.”

“That is not the same thing.”

“No, it is not.”

For once she had no ready answer.

He decided mercy demanded he end the moment before either of them said something worse. “Go home, Miss Finch. Try not to overthrow the government before dinner.”

Her mouth curved at last. “I make no promises.”

He watched her walk away. Perhaps he had lost his mind and she was a traitor. Albeit in entirely different circumstances, he also appeared to be becoming one.

Baines waited until she had disappeared beyond the rise before returning to the Black Lion, where Harland greeted him with the expression of a man pleased to discover that an agreeable stranger had reconsidered leaving.

“You back already? Did you forget something?”

“Ay, my sense.”

He ordered nothing more to drink and instead persuaded the innkeeper into providing a private room, paper, ink and ten uninterrupted minutes. The innkeeper appeared sufficiently impressed by the coin accompanying the request to offer a narrow chamber upstairs, overlooking the road.

Baines closed the door and sat at the little table beneath the window, placed a sheet on the writing desk, and considered how much one could tell Renforth without writing a novel.

Unnecessary words, as any bloodhound knew, could be dangerous.

Baines regarded unnecessary words as one of civilization’s greater pleasures, in the right circumstances, and grimaced at the difficulty. He dipped the pen in the muddy ink and wrote in their code:

Sir,

The source remains unidentified. I am no closer to naming the individual responsible than when I arrived, though I am increasingly convinced the principal leak originates within Blackthorn or travels through someone with regular access to its gatherings.

That was unpleasant to admit. Baines continued.

The most recent circular reproduces, almost verbatim, a statement made by Sir GW at dinner concerning the proposed arrest of suspected radical leaders. The phrasing appears substantially unchanged. The interval between conversation and publication suggests rapid transmission and makes ordinary repetition or distorted social gossip increasingly unlikely.

He paused again. That was the heart of it. Someone was not merely remembering the subject of conversations; someone was preserving language.

He added:

I have also received credible warning of a general stoppage of labour connected with the Scottish radicals. You will almost certainly know more of this before my report reaches you, as I assume our people in Glasgow are already in place. Placards are said to be appearing under the authority of a Committee of Organization for Forming a Provisional Government. If the reports are accurate, the movement is intended to extend beyond individual manufactories and may involve tens of thousands of workers.

Baines leaned back. Renforth would know the last. If London had not known that before a village groom in Northumberland, someone deserved to lose his employment. Still, Baines wrote it because assumptions were how Intelligence Officers became dead Intelligence Officers.

I have found reformist sympathies amongst several guests, particularly Pembroke, but presently see no evidence that sympathy is equivalent to involvement in the dangerous leaking. Cranford remains of interest. Sir George possesses access to military and magistrates’ information, though whether he passes it, or merely distributes it freely to every dining table in Britain, remains uncertain. Lady Beckenham is observant and knows more of the pattern than she initially admitted. Sir Lionel appears guilty, chiefly, of hospitality.

Baines smiled despite himself and then wrote the sentence he least enjoyed.

I believe the responsible party is still at Blackthorn.

He stared at the ink drying on the words.

If the traitor had already departed, the task would become pursuit. Pursuit was simple. One followed, trapped, extracted what was necessary, and quietly removed the problem. If the traitor remained at Blackthorn, Baines ate with him—or her.

The thought came unwillingly. He put the pen down. There were efficient ways to dispose of traitors.