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Jordan’s gaze remained steady on Gibson’s face. “Yes.”

Gibson sighed and, with the tip of one finger, traced a knot in the table’s surface.

“Yes, well, that’s what Thomas and I fought—wrestled—over.

I’m the eldest, but when Papa passed, everyone turned to Thomas, not me.

And Thomas accepted the role. I was never given a chance to take it—to step into Papa’s shoes. ”

After a moment during which they all digested that, Jordan said, “With Thomas’s death, those shoes are now empty.” Carefully, Jordan suggested, “Perhaps killing Thomas was your way of resolving your wrestling match once and for all and taking back what you considered to be yours.”

Gibson’s gaze lifted to Jordan’s face. “What?” For an instant, as the implications of Jordan’s words sank in, Gibson’s face was stripped of all assumed expression, and something close to horrified revulsion filled his eyes.

Abruptly, Gibson sat up and shook his head.

“No! No matter how much Thomas and his posturing irritated me, I would never have hurt him.” Gibson swallowed, then went on, “And despite everything, inside”—he tapped a fist to his chest—“I never questioned that what Thomas was doing was the very best for the family. That was never the issue.”

Gibson seemed to deflate, to sink into himself, and Barnaby felt they were finally dealing with the real man behind the facade as Gibson went on, “Yes, we fought—argued. Over the past year, whenever we met, inevitably one of us would prod the other with some comment, and we’d be at it again.

But it was all…fighting between brothers.

It was never physically harmful.” Gibson paused, then, his voice lowering, continued, “We fought with words and attitudes and emotions. We struck at each other’s pride, at each other’s sense of self—that sort of thing.

But truth be told, I don’t think we would have fought at all if we weren’t brothers.

” Briefly, he met Jordan’s gaze. “There wouldn’t have been any point. ”

With two older brothers himself, Barnaby understood the observation.

Gibson appeared to collect himself. He straightened on the chair, then looked at Barnaby, Penelope, Stokes, and Jordan, and stated, “Thomas was my brother. Despite how it might appear, we were close. I would never have killed him, and I have no idea who did.” His lips turned downward.

“Believe me, if I did know who had murdered him, I would already have told you. As I said earlier, I have no real knowledge of Thomas’s clients.

However, I do know him, possibly better than anyone, even Ruthie.

So I can tell you that if one of his clients was involved in something shady—something that didn’t meet his standards of the right and proper—he wouldn’t stand for it.

He would, without question, reveal what he’d learned to the authorities. ”

A frown slowly formed on Gibson’s face, then he grimaced and added, “It would also be just like Thomas to notify his wayward client of what he’d found and that he was about to go to the authorities.

He was always one to try to help people.

He was idealistic and sometimes rather naive in that way.

It’s likely he would have suggested that they go to the authorities themselves and confess and put things right, rather than have him tell what he knew. ”

Gibson paused, then rather sadly said, “Thomas always assumed that if he was doing the right thing and acting as the law dictated, that everything would go his way and work out well in the end. He was one who believed that evil would never triumph.”

Penelope murmured, “You sound rather jaded on that point.”

Gibson looked at her. “Thomas is dead.”

There was nothing anyone could say to that.

After a moment, Jordan ventured, “As you say, Thomas is dead. Now that he is, your family transparently needs someone else to take the helm.” He caught Gibson’s gaze. “Will you be that man and step up to the mark?”

Barnaby, along with all the others in the room, watched Gibson wrestle with the question.

Eventually, as much to himself as to anyone else, he quietly said, “Will I step into my dead brother’s shoes?

” Then he squared his shoulders and looked at Jordan.

“If the family will have me, then yes. Someone needs to manage the reins overall, and although Ruthie is quietly effective, she needs a man to stand behind while she handles the ribbons.”

Penelope smiled. “That’s well said.” She had to approve, and to her mind, the comment showed that Gibson had a sound understanding of where, within his family, the common sense lay.

Stokes asked when Gibson had last spoken with his brother, and without fuss, Gibson said it had been the previous Sunday at the house in Finsbury Circus, confirming what Bobby had told them.

Stokes shut his notebook and looked at Gibson.

“Thank you, Mr. Cardwell. If you should remember or learn anything you believe might be relevant, however tangentially, to identifying your brother’s murderer, please send word to me here at the Yard.

” When Gibson nodded, Stokes continued, “You’re free to go. ”

They all rose and filed out of the cramped room, then stood back and allowed O’Donnell to conduct Gibson back to the street.

With the others, Penelope watched him go. Before he reached the stairs, he returned his top hat to his head. With every step he took, she could almost see him resuming the rakish profligate persona he showed to the world.

Despite that, she now felt there was real hope that Gibson Cardwell would transform into the man his family needed him to be.

Once Cardwell had vanished up the stairs, Stokes waved their company on. “Let’s head back to my office and decide where we are now.”

They trooped upstairs to Stokes’s office on the first floor.

Once they’d settled in the chairs about the desk, Penelope stated, “In all that the Cardwell brothers revealed, I heard nothing that made me think either of them had sufficient motive to kill Thomas.”

Jordan nodded. “Gibson could have struck out in anger. He’s certainly strong enough and has the stature and coat and hat to pass as our unknown gentleman.

But Gibson and Thomas’s contentious relationship was long established, and it would have taken something quite dramatic to push Gibson into such an act, and no one’s suggested anything even vaguely powerful enough that could have spurred him into acting last Tuesday morning. ”

“I concur,” Barnaby said. “Regarding Gibson, aside from all else, killing Thomas wouldn’t have fitted his image—the character of his late father that he has been, at least up to now, attempting to emulate.”

“Aha!” Penelope nodded. “Very true.”

Stokes had been flicking through his notebook. “For my money, Bobby Cardwell is definitely not our murderer. He might be twenty-something, but he’s younger in some ways, and his character is not yet fixed, and it seems he looked up to Thomas and valued what Thomas was doing for the family.”

“And,” Penelope said, “that’s another reason Gibson wouldn’t have killed Thomas, either.” She looked at the others. “No matter any arguments, from all he let fall, Gibson, too, valued what Thomas was doing to keep the family afloat.”

“Indeed.” Barnaby, too, looked around at the others. “So where does that leave us now?”

Stokes blew out a breath. “Well, if it wasn’t one of the family, and we seem to have accepted that it wasn’t, and it also wasn’t the Hemingways, then we have to assume that the nefarious activities that moved Thomas to write to Roscoe, which are presumably the reason Thomas was killed, stem from some other client of Thomas’s. ”

“We’ve heard nothing to suggest that Thomas had recently ventured into some unexpected circle that might have led to such a discovery,” Penelope pointed out.

“That suggestion of Gibson’s,” Jordan said, “that Thomas might have notified the client involved that he was preparing to go to the authorities in the hope said client would do the right thing and rectify the matter themselves, might well have been what happened.” He glanced at the others.

“Such behavior on Thomas’s part fits with the rest of the family’s views of his character. ”

Barnaby stated, “The most likely avenue through which Thomas learned of nefarious activities being afoot is through his work for his clients. That’s indisputable.

And Gibson’s suggestion of Thomas contacting the about-to-be-exposed client also fits the timing of the letter to Roscoe and Thomas’s murder. ”

Stokes was nodding. “Our unknown man presumed to be the murderer is the about-to-be-exposed client.”

Penelope straightened on her chair. “We need to check Thomas’s ledgers and search for any correspondence—copies of recent letters and so on. There might well be a major clue hidden in his account books.”

“I agree,” Jordan said.

Stokes frowned. “Wouldn’t the murderer—presuming he was this client—have removed any telltale ledger? Surely that will be long gone.”

Jordan’s brows rose. “Perhaps, but that might be a clue in and of itself.” He glanced at Penelope. “There should be a master list somewhere in Thomas’s office. And Ruth could well have one, too, given she did all the accounts.”

Penelope smiled. “So if we check all the remaining ledgers against the master list and discover some are inexplicably missing…”

Jordan grinned. “That will point to the murderer.”

Barnaby, Penelope, and Jordan all looked at Stokes.

He regarded them impassively, then pushed back from his desk. “Right, then. It’s back to Cardwell’s office to trawl through his files.”

Along with his three coinvestigators, Barnaby returned to Broad Street.

On descending from their carriage, they found Gelman chatting to Walsh, who was presently on guard outside Cardwell’s office door.

Walsh came to attention and reported to Stokes, “No one’s approached, sir. And Morgan said all was quiet overnight.”