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S ilas found it odd that instead of heading for Bryanston Mews by himself after the close of business on Monday, he accompanied Pemberton in a carriage to Ormond Yard.

Their carriage arrived just as John and Raoul approached on foot. The four of them entered together, and Will announced that Mr. Curiel was already in the lounge with Lord Dawson and Mr. Marsh.

Silas caught Ezra’s eye as they entered, and he felt such a pain in his heart as he had never experienced before. Though Ezra did not appear in ill health, there was something of defeat in his face, and Silas longed to rush forward and comfort him. But the way that Ezra looked down, and wrapped his arms around his broad chest, held him back.

“Who would like a whisky?” Magnus asked, and he then busied himself at the bar as everyone sat down.

The room was comfortable, much more so than Silas’s single room. The sofa and chairs were upholstered with a subtle pattern of tropical birds, a nod to Magnus’s time in warm climates while in the Navy. The curtains were fine silk, the rug on the floor an ornate oriental that showed only the tiniest signs of wear.

It was a room, and a home, that Silas realized he ached for.

“It has been a long day for everyone, I imagine,” Toby said. “So we will eat first, and fortify ourselves, and then discuss things.”

They all took their whisky glasses and proceeded into the dining room, where Will and Carlo had set the table for seven. The first course was the same soup Carlo had served at Sylvia’s birthday, a meat broth with tiny shreds of egg in it, and everyone pronounced delicious. It was followed by thinly sliced veal sautéed with mushrooms and a Madeira sauce, and roasted potatoes and carrots.

“I’ll start, because I probably have the least to offer,” Silas said, after Will had cleared the last of the plates away. “I received a photo of Mr. Walpert from Antony Wigton’s office.”

He passed the photograph around. Ezra received it and nodded. “I have spoken with him often before fights,” he said. “He was a fellow Jew, and sought to use that connection to influence his betting. He would ask how I was feeling, if I had any particular aches or pains that might influence my fight strategy, and so on. My understanding was that when I began fighting, he bet on me to win regularly, whether the odds were long or short.” He looked down at the table. “He called me his lucky talisman.”

He opened the top button of his shirt and tugged out a palm-shaped charm on a gold chain from around his neck. “This is a hamsa,” he said, showing it around. “Thought to bring good luck by the Jews of North Africa. When he saw mine, he immediately purchased one for himself.” He frowned. “Though it clearly did not bring him luck.”

“When I spoke with him, he said he was a follower of yours,” Silas said. “I didn’t realize he had gone quite so far, though.”

“We know that Walpert was a gambler,” Pemberton said. “It is possible that someone from his bookie’s assaulted him, not expecting Walpert to fall to his death.”

“Raoul and I may be able to add to that,” John said. “We went over to New Cross and spoke to a number of men. I was warned not to travel around the boxing arena at night after there have been fights, because thieves and footpads prey on men who’ve had too much to drink and might have a few coins in their pocket as the result of a good wager.”

“And I spoke with a hustler of about Walpert’s age, who says they were at a Ragged School together,” Raoul said. “And that if he hadn’t been so good at numbers, Walpert could have ended up like him, sucking men for money.”

He hesitated, then continued. “Some of you might recall my former colleague, Hugo Malherbe, who is a man like us and has been a guest at one of the soirées. He lost his job at the embassy when Morvan was dismissed, and went to join a French bank. I heard through another colleague who spoke with Hugo that many bankers knew of Walpert’s gambling problems, and there was some suspicion that the Rothschilds themselves might be behind his death, if he betrayed them somehow.”

Silas copied that information down, as Pemberton complimented Raoul and John on the intelligence.

Raoul continued, “I also heard that Rebecca has been funding her charity in large part herself, and that it is need of funds to continue its work.”

“That explains it!” Ezra said. “I have been noticing money missing from our household accounts. I have meant to discuss it with Rebecca, but I was waiting for the right moment. I did not want to challenge her too harshly.”

Toby picked up the trail. “I met with Gervase Quinn this morning and he was already aware of the case against Ezra, and the possible diplomatic complications.”

“What does that mean?” Ezra asked.

Magnus stepped in. “If we begin with the premise that you did not punch Nathan Walpert and cause his death, then someone else must have. It is left to us, then, to discover who threw that fatal punch, and why.”

Toby continued, “Quinn is worried that Walpert might have sold intelligence about the purchase of the Suez canal shares, or been paid by someone to look for ways to scuttle it or cause problems with the numbers.”

“The ideas people have.” Pemberton shook his head. “Let us recap what we have learned. There are at least several directions I could turn this case. First, I can direct aspersions against Walpert’s integrity. That someone might have tried to take advantage of his connection to the Suez deal, and that led to his murder.”

Silas wrote that down with a big number one. He was beginning to feel better about Ezra’s chances before the puisne judge.

“Second, we have Walpert’s propensity to gamble,” Pemberton said. “Although it is unusual to kill a man over debts, because the bookmaker loses the opportunity to collect. But it is possible that someone threatened Walpert and his death was an accidental result of that threat.”

Magnus said, “Yesterday I spoke with a wine merchant we often purchase from, Samuel Steingrob. Do you know him, Ezra?”

“Only from the shul,” he said. “Rebecca handles all the household purchases and accounts.”

Silas saw a twinkle in Magnus’s eye as he said, “He complained about many of your countrymen. Apparently those of your background think they are better than the Eastern Europeans like himself.”

Ezra shrugged. “That is the way of some. If I am distant, it is because I have less interest in religion than others.”

“He said that he knew Walpert from your shul, and that he thought he was a gambler. He spoke very disparagingly of men in illegal businesses like prostitution and gambling. He also gave me the name of a man called Bertie Greenbaum.”

Ezra shivered, as if a chill had come into the room. “Greenbaum has approached me on occasion, implying that if I were able to control the outcome of a certain bout, there would be a great deal of money in it for me. I always refused.”

Silas was relieved. Aside from the lies that had to be told by men of their ilk, he had felt Ezra to be honorable, and he was glad to have that confirmed.

Pemberton turned to Ezra. “Then we come to the question of your wife. Why would she step forward and lie to Scotland Yard about your whereabouts on the night of the murder, and go so far as to mention blood on your clothing?”

“I have thought about this a great deal,” Ezra said. “As you can imagine, I had hours of solitary confinement with my thoughts my only companions.”

He sighed. “Neither of us married for love. My father understood I was only interested in boxing, to the exclusion of anything else, even women. Though he did not know of my inclinations, he despaired that I would never marry.”

His hand shook noticeably, and Silas wanted to reach over and comfort him. He explained the circumstances of their marriage, and the men around him nodded in understanding. “There are many men who would see such accommodation,” Magnus said. “And I know several who already live in such a way.”

“Can you see a way she could profit from your incarceration?” Pemberton asked.

Ezra shrugged. “She expects a large inheritance from her father, who is in ill health in Paris,” he said. “Her father settled some money on us when we married, which enabled us to move to London and purchase the house in Hackney. Because of the laws about women and money, it is in my name. Though it has been pledged against my freedom, if I stand trial, it is released, no?”

“That’s correct,” Pemberton said. “And if you are imprisoned, she takes control of all your assets. Do you have investments? Company shares, other real estate?”

“I was fortunate in my early career in France to win significant money in prize fights,” Ezra said. “My father invested that carefully for me, and kept me on a tight budget. Rebecca was raised by a rich father who allowed her a lavish allowance and was very generous to the poor, and she has continued that effort. Until now, I believed that she was directing her own funds that way, but now I worry that she may be overspending her accounts.”

He shook his head. “But we still maintain a substantial bank balance. In London, many men have been eager to secure my acquaintance, and offer me the opportunity to invest in various enterprises.”

He quoted them a figure which astonished Silas, and apparently most of the other men, as the current total of his fortune. “Though if I am not careful Rebecca will give it all away. She insists that she must make large donations to charities to enhance her social position.”

“I sent a message to the Honorable Sylvia Cooke yesterday, asking her to pay a call on Mrs. Curiel, whom she had met through one of those charities,” Magnus said. “She and Miss Cleaver did, and then Toby and I spoke with them.”

“Your friends met with my wife?” Ezra said with surprise. “She has said in the past that she had acquaintance with several women of nobility but I dismissed that as fantasy. How was she? She was not at home when I returned from prison. I changed my clothes and came here before she returned.”

“Sylvia said that she seemed surprisingly cheerful for a woman whose husband was in gaol. She wore a pink dress rather than to appear in mourning.”

“I am not surprised.”

“Miss Cleaver also mentioned that she overheard a woman speak of ‘that awful Mr. Greenbaum.’ Does your wife have connection with him?”

“I didn’t think so.” He thought for a moment, and then his mouth opened wide. “The money that has gone missing from our household accounts. Is it possible that she has been betting with Greenbaum?”

He stood up abruptly. “I must get to the bottom of this!”