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‘The tincture is old, so the potency is much diminished. But yes, it cannot be anything else.’

A sliver of triumph runs up his spine. Deadly nightshade. One of the strongest natural poisons to exist. He knew it. Knew it!

It is the first feeling of justification Henry has felt since coming here. His dismissal from Guy’s Hospital made him doubt his talents, made him believe he was a failure. But here, here is proof that he is not so hopeless as the governor had him believe! Joyfully Henry turns to Linette, but his triumph turns to guilt as he sees the look of shock on her face.

She had not truly believed him, that was clear. Yet Linette doubted enough to suggest coming to see Miss Carew, doubted enough to ask the question. And now she has her answer.

‘I’m sorry, Linette.’

Merlin, attuned it seems to his mistress’ distress, presses his head against her thigh. Absently Linette lowers her hand, and the dog gently licks her palm.

‘His face was contorted when we found him. Did he suffer greatly?’

Her voice is quiet, sad. Henry hesitates. How to tell her? But here, Miss Carew steps forward.

‘I don’t understand. Someone has taken this?’

Linette’s mouth opens and closes. Henry takes a breath.

‘I found this bottle in the wreckage of the gatehouse.’

Miss Carew’s hand rises to her mouth. ‘You mean … Dr Evans?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

Her eyes widen. Slowly she lowers her hand, presses it against her chest.

‘Poor Wynn,’ she murmurs. ‘I had not … it did not …’ Miss Carew trails off. ‘I was saddened to hear he had died. He was a good man, a kind man. He did not taunt my work as others have.’

She pauses, and Henry wonders if she thinks of Dr Beddoe. In the beat that follows, Miss Carew looks to Linette.

‘To answer your question, my lady, deadly nightshade is a potent poison when used in its purest form. To eat the berries or leaves would in itself be deadly, but as a tincture its potency is magnified. Within minutes Dr Evans would have experienced severe pain, difficulty breathing, loss of sensation. His heart rate would have increased rapidly.’ Miss Carew nods at the vial in Henry’s hand. ‘If he was given the full amount in that bottle his heart would have given out very quickly. Yes, I’m afraid he would have suffered greatly indeed.’

Linette closes her eyes.

‘Good God,’ she whispers. ‘What do I tell Enaid?’

‘Tell her nothing,’ Henry says. ‘At least not until we’ve got to the bottom of this. It wouldn’t be fair to distress her when we still know so little.’

She takes a shaky breath, a single nod. When she opens her eyes again they are hard, an angry light in them.

‘What do we do now?’

Henry turns the vial over in his hand, thoughtful.

‘At Bow Street,’ he says, ‘such matters follow a very simple course. Francis Fielding always considered the facts and took note of all the people who link to them. The facts are these: my predecessor has been poisoned with a tincture of deadly nightshade, administered from this bottle.’ Henry holds it up so both women can see it clearly. ‘Said bottle is not typical of one purchased from an apothecary, so must have been specially made for the purpose by someone of means. It must be noted that Dr Beddoe lives very comfortably for a village doctor, but that observation would be nothing if not for this – the tincture’s effects account for the expression on Dr Evans’ face when he was discovered, yet Beddoe denied noting any such expression when I asked him about it yesterday.’

Henry hesitates. Should he say?

‘And there’s another curious thing I noticed.’

A weary expression passes across Linette’s face. ‘What else can there be?’ she asks, and Henry takes a measured breath.

‘Your cousin wears a signet ring, does he not? A ring with a strange symbol upon it.’

‘The family crest, yes.’

‘Are you sure that’s what it is?’