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Judith pricked up her ears whilst pretending to be absorbed in her tea. Lady Beckenham looked at him over the rim of her cup.

Sir George continued, apparently delighted to possess an audience insufficiently rude to stop him. “The radicals depend upon Glasgow speaking to Paisley, Paisley to the villages, and the villages carrying word outward. Sever those links and the movement loses force. A few days without wages will accomplish the remainder.”

Judith put down her spoon very carefully.

There was something familiar in the words—not the argument itself, for gentlemen had been saying variations of it for weeks, but in the phrasing.

She looked at the newspaper and gestured with her hand.

“May I see that?”

Sir George glanced at her. “Certainly, though I warn you there is little in it fit for ladies.”

Lady Dunsmore’s brows rose. “How fortunate, then, that print cannot distinguish our sex.”

Judith accepted the paper before Sir George could improve upon his remark.

The first paragraphs described the proclamation calling labourers to cease work and the immense response spreading through the industrial districts. Judith read quickly, her unease deepening with every column.

Then she found what she sought.

The authorities are believed determined to secure the principal routes, thereby breaking communication between Glasgow, Paisley and the surrounding towns before the movement can gather further strength.

“What is it?”

Judith read the sentence again.

Sir George had just said as much; not merely the same idea but almost the same words.

She looked at him. “Sir George, when did you first hear that the authorities intended to secure the routes between the towns?”

Sir George appeared startled by the question. “I beg your pardon?”

“You said they would secure the principal routes and break communication between Glasgow and Paisley. When did you hear it?”

His expression became defensive with impressive speed. “I hear many things.”

“From whom?”

Lady Dunsmore looked between them with increasing interest. “Judith, are you interrogating Sir George over his eggs?”

“I am simply asking a question.”

“That is what interrogators generally do,” her ladyship replied calmly.

Sir George folded his napkin. “I do not see why it matters. The strategy is obvious.”

“If it is obvious, then perhaps the newspaper arrived at it independently,” Judith suggested. Judith looked at the printed words again. She no longer believed in so many coincidences, including the circular beneath Baines’ arm earlier, in the village road.

Take the lot of them in a single night.

Those had been Sir George’s words at dinner.

Secure the principal routes.

Break communication between the towns.

The lines had appeared in print less than a day after similar language had been spoken at Blackthorn.