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P emberton began mentioning the available position of junior clerk to the barristers and solicitors he encountered, but while he did Silas worked hard to catch up on Cyril’s delayed work as well as all that was necessary to keep the office running.

Pemberton returned to the office from court on Wednesday afternoon, and he said, “One of the barristers whom you might have met through your friends Lord Dawson and Mr. Marsh suggested you should contact Mr. Quintin Hogg who runs a Ragged School. That he might be able to supply us with a junior clerk.”

Silas was surprised that Pemberton should mention the association with Magnus and Toby so easily, but then they had already established themselves as part of the same fraternity.

“I’m not familiar with that term,” Silas said. “What kind of a school is a ragged one?”

“It is part of an association that teaches thechildren of the poor,” Pemberton said. “Whether their parents be convicts, drunks, or abusive step‐parents, as well as deserted orphans. Hogg himself is the ex‐Etonian son of a prosperous London merchant. His operation is just off the Strand.”

He looked at his pocket watch. “It is close to the end of the day. You might go over to this school and speak with Mr. Hogg. If you can find a worthwhile candidate, arrange for him to meet with me.”

“Yes, sir,” Silas said, and he set off for the Strand soon after. The address Pemberton had given him was on his way home, and the afternoon was surprisingly sunny, making him feel quite cheerful, like a boy freed from school.

In only the few years he had been in London, the Strand had changed in character. Nearly 500 cramped dwellings had been pulled down to make way for the recent start of construction on a new location for the Royal Courts of Justice, and as he walked he admired the physiques of some of the workmen.

None could compare to Ezra’s, however.

He stopped in front of Simpson’s Grand Divan Tavern to watch the chess aficionados play the game with their giant pieces and boards. He had no idea of the rules, but it was jolly to watch the beady-eyed men concentrate, then triumphantly move a piece from one square to another.

He finally reached the address he sought on York Place, in what had looked to have once been a square brick warehouse. He opened the front door to find a maze of small rooms ahead of him. A young woman in a gray dress sat by a table. “May I help you, sir?” she asked.

He explained his mission, and she fetched Mr. Hogg. He had a long, narrow face, accentuated by a mustache and goatee, and dressed like a gentleman, despite the poverty of his surroundings. He did not look to Silas like someone who would be at home in the louche surroundings of Ormond Yard. But in his time as a single man, Silas had met many men who kept that side of themselves hidden, as Ezra did.

Hogg looked him up and down, and Silas wondered if he saw signs of Silas’s proclivities, and worried for a moment the man might think he was there to procure a boy for sexual purposes.

“Good day, sir. I work for Barrister Pembroke at the Inns of Court, and it was suggested that I contact you regarding our need for a junior clerk. One who can read and write and do sums.”

Hogg appeared satisfied with what he saw, and Silas’s statement. “Our mission is to provide free education, food, clothing, lodging and other home missionary services for poor children,” Hogg said. “We are called ragged schools because we educate children in worn-out clothes who rarely have shoes and do not own sufficient clothing suitable to attend any other kind of school.”

“An admirable undertaking,” Silas said.

“We put an emphasis on reading, writing, arithmetic, and study of theBible, though I often work with exceptionally bright young boys to prepare them for commercial work such as bank and legal clerks. So you have come to the right place.”

“Do you have a boy who might fit the bill, to start as soon as possible?” Silas asked. “Or not a boy, exactly, but a young man?”

He worried that if Pemberton brought a boy under the age of puberty into the office, there might be whispers of impropriety.

“Would you have any problem with a lad of Irish extraction? A Catholic?”

“As long as he speaks English clearly there would be no problem.”

“Oh, our Luke has been here since he was a small boy, so his English is very clear. He still has some rough edges, mind you. That comes from growing up on the street. But I think he might suit you.” He turned to the young woman. “Agnes, could you fetch Luke O’Shea for me? I believe he is in the back classroom.”

“Luke is a good lad,” Hogg said when the young woman was gone. “A bit too delicate for hard labor, and too sharp as well. I think he would flourish in a barrister’s office. Particularly one led by Mr. Pemberton.”

“Do you know him, sir?”

“I believe we have met on occasion,” Hogg said. “I could not say more than that.”

Could not, or would not, Silas thought, establishing more clearly to himself that Hogg had been to Ormond Yard not as a patron of the arts, but as part of the set of men who rejoiced in the company of other men.

Not all of them carried out those desires, he knew. For some, it was enough to simply be around others who shared their tastes, and then go home to their ordinary lives. Or others could be like Pemberton, who had retired from activity and settled for appreciation instead.

Silas hoped he would never end up that way. Though in his deepest heart he accepted that he could not see himself with Ezra in old age.

Agnes returned with a lanky lad, all knees and elbows, with a shaft of blond hair and piercing blue eyes. “This is Luke,” Hogg said.

Silas stuck out his hand. “Silas Warner,” he said. “Pleased to meet you.”

The boy’s hand was like a damp fish. That was something he would have to be taught. “If you wouldn’t mind sitting,” Silas said, and pointed to the desk Agnes had vacated. He ripped a page from his notebook and handed it, and a pencil, to Luke. “Could you please write out the following?”

Luke sat, and Silas dictated a pair of sentences that conveyed documents from Barrister Pembroke to Solicitor Wigton. “And then sign your own name, please.”

Luke wrote, and Silas was pleased. He gave the lad an addition exercise and he did not have to frown or lick the pencil, but quickly carried it out correctly.

“Excellent. Please write down this address.” He gave him the office address at the Inns of Court. He knew that Pembroke would be in the office all morning. “Please arrive there at ten o’clock. Should Barrister Pembroke approve of you, you would begin immediately.”

“Thank you, sir,” Luke said.

Silas continued home, happy that he had accomplished a mission on Pemberton’s behalf. It reassured him to know that he had the capability to step into Cyril’s shoes. That is, if Pemberton agreed with his judgment.

Thursday morning, Luke arrived at the office at nine-thirty. He wore a simple but presentable pair of trousers and a white shirt that had been scrubbed very clean, and a topcoat that was too large on the shoulders and too short at the back.

He stepped in the door and addressed Silas. “Sorry to be early, sir, if it’s inconvenient, but I did not want to be late.”

“It’s not a problem,” Silas said. He stood and shook the lad’s hand, and introduced him to Robb, who was at least four years younger. “Wait here.”

He knocked and went into Pemberton’s office. “The lad is here to apply for the junior clerk’s job,” he said.

“What do you think of him?”

“Well-spoken, though a bit rough around the edges. He can write and do sums, and Mr. Hogg spoke highly of him.”

“Very good. Bring him in.”

When Silas returned to the outer office, Luke was visibly nervous. “It’s all right, lad, no one bites here,” he said. “Come and meet Mr. Pemberton.”

He ushered Luke inside and shut the door. “He coming to work here?” Robb asked.

“Depends on if the boss likes him,” Silas said.

Robb laughed. “The boss will like him fine,” he said. ‘You have only to look at his face and his arse to know that.”

Silas was scandalized. “Robb!” he said.

“Come on, it’s no secret that the boss likes a boy in his bed now and then. Doesn’t bother me a bit, though I’m interested in girls, not boys. Mr. Cyril used to talk about it. He didn’t like it, but he knew that he couldn’t get as good a job elsewhere, so he suffered.”

Silas was stunned. It was the first time he and Robb had spoken openly in the two years he’d been at the office, and he’d always assumed that Pemberton’s inclinations were a secret he was obliged to keep. Now he worried that he had thrust an impressionable young lad into Pemberton’s lair. “Do you think he will...” he asked Robb.

Robb shook his head. “The boss likes to look,” he said. “And according to Mr. Cyril, he doesn’t want to soil his own nest.”

The door to Pemberton’s office opened, and he and Luke stepped out. “Luke will be joining us,” he said. “Silas, can you get him set up?”

“I will, sir,” Silas said.

Though he was glad to have an assistant, Silas discovered that at least at the start, his workload was even heavier, because he had to tutor Luke in everything. Fortunately the lad was a fast learner. But Silas worried that he might not be able to leave the office early enough to catch Ezra’s fight on Friday evening.

If he couldn’t get to the arena, he’d miss seeing Ezra fight, and perhaps even not be able to see him for several more days.

He worked diligently, with Luke and on his own, and on Friday evening he was able to leave at seven o’clock, and hurried across town to the boxing ring. Once again, he was too late to get up close, but he knew that he’d be able to meet Ezra afterwards in the alley.

He joined the jostling crowd for the last match before Ezra’s, and was delighted to see his lover march out to the ring along with his opponent. But then everything ground to a halt as two uniformed bobbies stepped up to speak to the referee. “Unfortunately, this match must be cancelled,” the referee said, to the accompaniment of boos and catcalls.

Silas was confused—until the referee led Ezra out of the ring and into the custody of the two bobbies.