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“Indeed,” Barnaby went on, “but the reason we’re here is because, entirely unexpectedly, Thomas had stumbled on a gun-running scheme and was in the process of notifying the authorities of it when he was killed.”

“Good gracious!” Mrs. Moubray cast a quick glance at her spouse. “So it wasn’t anything unlawful that Thomas was involved in that got him killed.”

“No.” Penelope noted Mrs. Moubray’s glance and had a fair notion of the reason for it. “If anything, one might argue that Thomas died a hero, for Crown and country as it were.”

Sir Ulysses nodded, but his suspicion was deepening. “His death is certainly regrettable, but I fail to see why the police have sent consultants to notify us of Cardwell’s passing. It’s not as if we had much interaction with the young man.”

“True,” Barnaby said. “However, we’re here because of the gun-running enterprise Thomas uncovered. He stumbled upon it because he’d noticed that his brother, Gibson, was rather more flush with cash than could be readily accounted for.”

Watching Mrs. Moubray, Penelope saw that lady fractionally nod as if Thomas’s observation matched her own, and her interest in Barnaby’s revelations noticeably sharpened.

In an even tone, Barnaby continued, “We’ve now determined that a man by the name of Chesterton had been searching for a place to store crates near Tilbury and, by sheer luck, had approached your son, who at the time was in the company of Gibson Cardwell and Joseph Keeble.

Harrison knew of the abandoned warehouse east of Tilbury that you, Sir Ulysses, own, and a deal was struck such that Chesterton paid Harrison for the use of the warehouse and also paid all three—Harrison, Gibson, and Joseph—for keeping silent about said deal. ”

Aghast, Mrs. Moubray stared at Barnaby, then switched her gaze, almost pleading, to Penelope. “You—the police—can’t possibly think that Harrison, or Joseph or Gibson, murdered Thomas.”

“No,” Barnaby firmly stated. “The police have established that the three gentlemen were not involved in the killing, and that regarding the gun-running scheme, they were unwitting dupes. They knew nothing about the guns or Chesterton’s scheme, nor were they aware that Thomas had followed them and discovered the source of their recent wealth. ”

Sir Ulysses’s cheeks had taken on a purplish hue, and his expression was thunderous. “You’re talking about my warehouse in Brennan Road?”

“Yes,” Barnaby replied and left it at that.

Watching Sir Ulysses’s ire build, Penelope stated, “We came to inform you of the circumstances of your son’s involvement with the gun-running scheme.”

“Also because,” Barnaby put in, “you own the warehouse used to store the guns.”

“And,” Penelope went on, “while the police do not anticipate your or your son’s names being mentioned in open court, it was thought advisable to warn you of the connection, as there is always a risk some news sheet might learn of the association.”

Sir Ulysses’s features had grown progressively stormier.

“Damned puppy!” His delivery was just short of a suppressed explosion.

“I offered to buy him a commission in my old regiment, but would he take it? No!” He thumped the arm of his chair.

“He had to go off and join his friends in living an existence—I wouldn’t go so far as to call it a life—as a ‘gentleman about town.’ Whatever that is! ”

Mrs. Moubray had grown decidedly anxious. Shifting forward, she fixed wide eyes on Penelope. “Mrs. Adair, perhaps we should leave the gentlemen to discuss these matters while we take tea in the conservatory.”

Deciding that she would learn more from the observant Mrs. Moubray than she would from her spouse, especially if they were private, Penelope readily agreed. “Thank you. Tea would be most welcome.”

They rose, and the gentlemen came to their feet as Mrs. Moubray ushered Penelope to the door. Looking back at Sir Ulysses, Mrs. Moubray asked, “Would you like me to send in a tea tray, dear?”

Sir Ulysses gave vent to disgusted sound. “Don’t bother. I need something stronger after learning of Harrison’s latest idiocy, and I daresay Adair won’t say no to joining me, even if it’s early in the day.”

Barnaby inclined his head in acquiescence.

As, with Mrs. Moubray close behind, Penelope went through the doorway, she heard Sir Ulysses growl, “I always kept a tight rein on Harrison’s funds. Didn’t want him going off the rails. But it seems he’s managed that anyway.”

A few minutes later, Penelope was ensconced in a well-padded sofa, again covered in flowered chintz, in a sunny room that looked out over a pleasant side garden.

The footman, carrying a properly stocked tray, had followed her and Mrs. Moubray into the room, and after settling into an armchair opposite Penelope, Mrs. Moubray expertly poured, then handed a cup and saucer to Penelope.

She accepted it, sipped, gently smiled, then set the cup on the saucer and said, “I couldn’t help but note that you weren’t surprised on learning that Gibson had shown signs of having unexplained funds.”

After taking a no-doubt-revivifying sip of her tea, Mrs. Moubray met Penelope’s gaze and admitted, “I’d had much the same thoughts of Harrison.

A new hat, new gloves, and a very nice silver-headed cane.

And he had a different air about him—as if he no longer had a care in the world and wasn’t concerned about what his father thought of him.

” She rested her cup on its saucer and looked into it for a moment before saying, “Sir Ulysses served on the Subcontinent. He was knighted for bravery under fire. He always hoped that Harrison would follow in his footsteps, and when Harrison refused, as you might imagine, that caused something of a rift.” She raised her cup and took another sip, over the cup’s rim meeting Penelope’s encouraging gaze.

Lowering the cup, Mrs. Moubray went on, “Naturally, therefore, Ulysses didn’t approve of Harrison’s decision to set up camp, as Ulysses terms it, with his two closest friends and, for that reason, kept Harrison’s financial reins rather short. ”

Feeling her way, Penelope ventured, “Am I correct in thinking that Sir Ulysses’s dislike of Harrison’s chosen lifestyle extends to Harrison’s friends?”

Mrs. Moubray faintly grimaced. “I would have to say that even during their schooldays, Ulysses was in two minds about Harrison’s friendships with Gibson and Joseph, although for different reasons.

The Cardwells are an old established family, and even though Gibson’s father was regarded as a black sheep, a ne’er-do-well, he was nevertheless well born.

However, Gibson’s attitudes were much the same as Harrison’s, and Ulysses couldn’t approve of any situation that bolstered Harrison’s defiance.

As for Joseph, well, Keeble Senior is the son of a merchant who moved up the social ladder by marrying into the gentry.

Sadly, even though Keeble paid to send Joseph to King Edward’s Grammar, courtesy of his family’s connections or rather lack thereof, Joseph will never meet Ulysses’s standards for being a close associate of Harrison’s. ”

“I see.” Penelope was forming a much clearer view of Sir Ulysses Moubray. Her gaze on Mrs. Moubray’s face, she asked, “Do you share your husband’s reservations regarding Gibson and Joseph?”

Mrs. Moubray frowned. “Well, no. I’ve always found the pair entirely unexceptionable, and in my view, no matter one’s station in life, friends are critically important. And those three have remained close ever since they met in their very first year at King Edward’s.”

Penelope threw her net of questions wider and learned that Harrison was the Moubrays’ only son and their eldest daughter was married and settled, while the youngest, Nettie, was still at home. Apparently, neither daughter encountered any difficulties with Sir Ulysses and his often-rigid views.

“Coming from years in the army, Ulysses likes to believe he’s in charge and in control,” Mrs. Moubray confided.

“As long as one allows him to think so, he remains content, and really, as long as one pauses to think and organize a trifle, my daughters and I have always found him easy enough to manage.”

Penelope had no difficulty believing that. But in considering the image of himself Sir Ulysses plainly held, she had to wonder... “If Sir Ulysses had wished to speak with one of the younger gentlemen, would he have gone to meet them at their home?”

“Oh no.” Mrs. Moubray shook her mousy curls.

“He would have summoned them to speak with him here, in his study, or at his club.” She paused, then said, “I’m fairly sure he hasn’t met with any of them recently.

He does tend to ramble about everything that happens in his day, and he hasn’t mentioned the lads for the past two weeks.

Not since Harrison, Gibson, and Joseph last dropped in to see me and Nettie. ”

Penelope smiled to herself. She was prepared to take everything Mrs. Moubray said of her husband and son as well-nigh gospel. Mousy, she might be, but she understood the characters of those close to her.

Mrs. Moubray asked about Penelope’s children, and she was happy to switch tacks and describe the imps.

Then the footman arrived and announced that Barnaby was ready to leave.

Penelope drained her teacup, placed cup and saucer on the tray, then rose and smiled at Mrs. Moubray. “Thank you for the tea and the conversation.”

Mrs. Moubray waved a hand. “It was entirely my pleasure, Mrs. Adair.”

Together, the ladies—both of them, Penelope suspected, entirely satisfied with the outcome of their private chat—left the conservatory and went to join their husbands.

Half an hour after leaving Scotland Yard, Jordan found himself sitting beside Ruth on the sofa in the Cardwells’ drawing room with Mrs. Cardwell in an armchair closer to the fireplace and Bobby and Gibson in the armchairs opposite.