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“No.”

Gunning glanced back at the dark street. “Aren’t you afraid we’re being watched or listened to?”

Gideon’s fingers tightened around his walking stick. “Whatever you have to say, I’m not interested.”

Gunning shrugged and stepped inside the foyer, pushing past the startled butler.

Hobbes was about to protest, but Gideon waved for him to leave. He then walked to the door and shut it firmly. Turning, he crossed his arms, his expression dry. “By all means, come inside.”

“Thank you.” Gunning’s smile was sharp. “What, no offer of whisky?”

“As you can see, I was leaving.” Gideon pulled out his pocket watch and made a show of inspecting the time, though he didn’t even look at the numbers. “I’m already late—”

“Then you might as well stay home,” Gunning interrupted.

Nobody dared interrupt Gideon. He was almost amused by the thief-taker’s nerve.

“What are you doing here, Gunning?” he asked, affecting boredom.

The thief-taker wandered deeper into the foyer, taking in the expensive paintings and furnishings. “Tsk. Is that any way to treat your guest?”

“Say what you came here to say and be done with it.”

Gunning stopped and fixed his eyes on Gideon. “Fine. What do you know about the recent murders of aristocrats?”

Ah. There it was. Gideon rubbed his chin, pretending to think. “Only what I read in the papers.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

“I have a witness who says otherwise.”

Gideon raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly is this witness saying?”

“That they saw you at the site of at least one murder.”

He shrugged. “That’s hardly compelling evidence of guilt. I was at the ball where Porter was killed, but so were many others. And unlike William, I wasn’t caught red-handed, standing over the body.”

Gunning’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, his mind piecing the puzzle together. Had Gideon revealed too much?

“As far as I know, William was convicted of all those murders.”

“He was,” Gunning agreed. “However, the witness I mentioned saw you at a different murder—not Porter’s.”

Gideon’s mind raced. Was the man bluffing? He kept his tone light. “What witness?”

Gunning snorted. “I’m not telling you so you can kill them.”

“I would never kill an innocent person.”

“What’s innocent to you?” Gunning asked, his body tense.

Ah. Whoever the supposed witness was, they weren’t completely innocent, and they mattered to Gunning.

Gideon had a suspicion he knew who it was. A brothel worker, perhaps. One who was sharing quarters with Gunning.

“Someone who isn’t harming others,” he answered. “Someone who hasn’t knowingly caused others harm.”