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“Early in the morning,” Daniel supplied. “That is when the coroner says he died. Can we assume your appointment was for later?’

“Stockley said he’d send for me when he had a free moment, and that we’d meet in the file room. Most of the rooms on that floor aren’t used anymore, only for storage of records. Several hundred years of records takes up much space.”

“The file room, not the strong room?” I asked for clarification. “You are certain?”

Sam sent me an impatient look. “Yes, I am certain. Stockley might have finally believed me, but he wouldn’t let a mere junior clerk into a strong room, no matter how ancient its contents. I wouldn’t have a key anyway. Two different keys were needed to enter, in any case.”

“Mr. Stockley had one?” I asked, scribbling notes.

“Yes, he was rather proud of it.” Sam’s tone was derisive.

“Who else did?” I prompted. “Who would have the second key needed to enter the room with Mr. Stockley?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Sam ran a hand through his uncombed hair. “Mr. Zachary, of course. Any of the senior bankers. The doorman has a multitude of keys he keeps in a cabinet in his little cubbyhole, though I couldn’t say what they opened.”

“Mr. Kearny?” I wrote his name.

“You speak as though you want to pin this murder on Kearny,” Sam said with disapproval. “He is not the sort. He does grow irritated with people, but he relies more on morose sighs and reproachful looks to convey his feelings. He does not fly into a violent rage and bash men to death.”

“That you know of,” I amended.

Sam made an exasperated noise. “I’ve been mates with the man for nigh on fifteen years. If he were capable of murder, by now he’d have done in the entire senior clerks’ room, Mr. Zachary, and Miss Swann for good measure. He had to fight plenty to reach the position he has. No, he’s an upright bloke underneath his fancy suits.”

That remained to be seen. I wrote down another name. “What about Miss Swann? Does she have a key to the strong room?”

Sam huffed a laugh. “No, indeed. Zachary would never give awomansomething so important as keys to rooms in the building she works in.”

“Mr. Kearny said that Mr. Zachary did what Miss Swann told him to, not the other way about,” I pointed out.

“Zachary relies on her judgment and intelligence, yes,” Sam answered. “But to give her anything that amounts to true stature in that company? No.”

I recalled the cool hauteur with which Miss Swann regarded Mr. Zachary—and Lady Cynthia and me, for that matter. If she was enraged at Mr. Zachary’s distrust of her because of her sex, she had hidden it well.

“Even though she is related to the Daalmans, and Daalman women have passed ownership of the bank through their line for centuries?” I went on.

“Only when there isn’t a male heir, so that the bank won’t go to anyone outside the family,” Sam said. “The ladies sit on the board of directors, and nominally as the chairman, if necessary, but all decisions and daily transactions are in the hands of their male relations and employees.”

“Hmph.” I kept my head bent over my notebook. “I think Daalman’s wouldn’t be on the shaky ground it is if the ladies truly ran things.”

Sam chuckled, sounding like his old self. “I agree with you, Kat. But I’m not certain things are shaky as you say. I look at the books every day. I copy out contracts and prospectuses, make certain everything is filed into the correct boxes, and copy the transactions the bank makes before sending them on to the senior clerks. There’s not much I don’t see. Daalman’s survived the panic of ’73 without a tremor. So many banks people thought were stable did not.”

I dimly recalled the furor in England, Europe, and America over banks and stockbrokers who couldn’t pay back their depositors or investors and were forced to close, ruining thousands and causing what financiers termed a depression. I’d seen the exclamations in the newspapers, but mostly I’d been cooking twelve hours a day. My money had been safely in a box under my mattress, so I didn’t pay much attention.

“But Daalman’s had ups and downs before,” I persisted.

“Probably.” Sam frowned. “Before my time though. We worried in 1873, but we came through. All investments are risky, especially in shipping, so there might have been some losses in the past. However, Daalman’s seems to have covered them all without much trouble.”

I admitted to myself that journalists liked to sensationalize any weakness in otherwise solid institutions to make people buy the newspapers. The man Mr. Davis had worked for who’d invested in Daalman’s might have simply bought risky stock. There were many sides to any story.

I turned a page in my notebook and wrote the wordEmbezzlement. Sam saw it and winced.

“I thought you might want to know about that,” he said.

“Why would they accuseyou?” I asked. “How was the possible embezzlement discovered?”

“Through me,” Sam said in resignation. “I told Stockley about it. I’m sorry I ever did.”

I wrote Stockley’s name under theEmbezzlementheading. “How exactly did you know money was being taken?”