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“Cease your ridiculousness,” I said. “Besides the police, did anyone else come to annoy Joanna? Sam’s old mates from South London, perhaps? Do you know a man called Ben Jarrett?”

Mr. Fielding paused with the glass of port at his lips and lowered it without drinking. “I have heard of him, but I don’t know him. Mrs. Millburn mentioned him as well. Apparently, Millburn wasn’t pure as the driven snow in his youth, was he?”

“He left that life behind,” I said firmly. “Mr. Jarrett found me and said he and his mates would break Sam free and make certain he could live unhindered. I explained to him that this would not do.”

Mr. Fielding gave a short laugh. “I am sorry I missed that conversation. But Jarrett has a bad reputation even among street toughs. I’ll put word out to keep him from you and Mrs. Millburn.”

“Daniel has already done so. He warned Jarrett off as well.”

“Of course he did.” Mr. Fielding took a hearty swig of the port. “But in this case, I can’t be sorry he got to Jarrett first. There are certain men in this city who should be banged up in Newgate simply for walking about.”

I could not disagree, having met many of the sort of men Mr. Fielding meant in my day.

Mr. Fielding continued, “Jarret’s upbringing is no excuse, though many people today claim that it is. I was a thorough reprobate, but I have reformed. If I can, anyone can.”

In happier times, I’d have burst out laughing. “Do not pretend you are virtuous, Mr. Fielding. I know you too well now.”

“Dear lady, you wound me.” Mr. Fielding winked. “My statement stands. I did reform—I am a help to those around me instead of preying on them for all I can get. Well, a help to the wretches who deserve it, I mean. I will continue to vex people like Jarrett as much as possible.”

“What about Bernard Compton?” I asked. “Have you heard of him? Is he the sort you’d vex?”

I asked because I was curious how much Mr. Fielding knew about the man, or if Daniel had told him his history with him.

Mr. Fielding’s levity fled. He stared at me with hard eyes, the affable vicar and the good-natured confidence trickster both gone in a moment.

“That is a name you should never speak,” he said severely. “Who told you it? Jarrett? I might have guessed he was made by such a villain.”

“No, Mr. Jarrett was frightened by mention of him.” I set down the wine. “He is deceased, is he not?”

“Yes, dead, and all the world rejoiced when he went. Still, his reach is long. The lieutenants he trained even now strike terror all over South London. A battle over who will replace him has been waging for some years.” Mr. Fielding drained his glass, then sent me a shrewd look. “If Jarrett didn’t mention Compton, who did?”

“Daniel,” I said.

“Why?”

The word was harsh. I realized I’d blundered—I’d thought Mr. Fielding would know all about Mr. Compton and Daniel’s past with him, but apparently not. The fact that Daniel had never told Mr. Fielding meant he did not wish Mr. Fielding to know.

“To frighten Mr. Jarrett,” I extemporized. “Compton was from South London, and so is Jarrett. It was effective.”

Mr. Fielding, no fool, held my gaze. “As a competent liar, Mrs. Holloway, I know a lie when I hear it. What has my erstwhile brother to do with Compton?”

I closed my hands in my lap. “What I was told was in confidence. I ought to have reined in my curiosity and held my tongue.”

“Kat.” Mr. Fielding leaned to me, all pretense at being the respectable vicar gone. “Whatever Daniel told you might be very important. This is dangerous knowledge—to Daniel, I mean.”

He alarmed me, but I knew that Mr. Fielding always played his own game, no matter how helpful he made himself to me or my friends. Behind the face he showed to the world lay a mind that constantly sought an advantage to himself.

“I am sorry, Mr. Fielding,” I said, keeping my voice gentle. “You will have to ask Daniel. I should not have spoken.”

“I am certain Daniel will plant a facer on me rather than answer the question,” Mr. Fielding said. “But I note you will not waver. The problem, you see, is that now I will have to find out on my own. I might kick over a rock that needs to be left grimy side down.”

“Please do not needle me into betraying Daniel’s confidence,” I said with a bit more heat. “Your threat to reveal it on your own does not move me. If you ask him, and he does not wish to tell you, then you should leave it at that.”

“Ever you admonish me.” Mr. Fielding’s lighter tone returned,but his watchfulness remained. “In most instances, I would agree with you, my dear Mrs. Holloway. In this one, it is beyond your depth. You are a good woman, and you cannot understand evil. But no fear. I will ask Daniel, and if he bloodies my nose for the question, I will return and weep on your shoulder. Now, I must bid you good day.” He waited for me to rise, as though I were a lady, before he leapt to his feet. “I am on this side of the metropolis for more reasons than the delight of visiting you, unfortunately. Working for the diocesan bishop means I have so many more duties to perform. I hardly have an hour to call my own.”

“I know you are pleased with yourself for your post, so I will not feel sorry for you. Good day, Mr. Fielding.” I stuck out my hand. “I do thank you for looking after Joanna.”

“A pleasure, my lady.” Mr. Fielding pumped my hand in a way he must have practiced to ingratiate himself with his congregation. He grew serious once more. “Never discuss Compton with anyone but Daniel or me. Not even your police detective, Inspector McGregor, or the constable who walks out with your kitchen assistant. An association with Compton—or even knowing an associate of Compton—could land you in a world of trouble.”