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Penelope was the first through the door and found herself in an even more opulent foyer.

Unsure which way to go, she paused to one side of the space.

She’d noted that Jordan was paying close, indeed, rapt attention to every aspect of Thomas’s and Montague’s actions.

When Barnaby and Jordan joined her, as Forbes was bringing up the rear and was still in the outer foyer, she seized the moment to whisper to Jordan, “Taking notes?”

He flashed her a grin, then dipped his head and murmured back, “I’m never loath to learn from the masters.” He glanced at Thomas and Montague as the pair walked toward them. “And these two can plainly teach me a trick or two, or even three.”

She chuckled, then Forbes came through the door, closed it behind him, and hurried to lead them on and into a large, luxuriously furnished office with ample seating for their company.

Thomas grasped the moment as they moved deeper into the office to perform the introductions.

To say that Forbes’s wariness escalated on learning Stokes was an inspector with Scotland Yard and, despite their station, Barnaby and Penelope acted as official consultants to the Metropolitan Police would be a severe understatement.

The man wasn’t foolish and could plainly see the pressure that would be brought to bear on him and his bank should he not promptly accede to the group’s request.

Learning that Jordan was Neville Roscoe’s man-of-business and also assisting in the present investigation effectively eliminated any lingering resistance Forbes might have harbored.

He urged them to avail themselves of the comfortable chairs, but he chose to remain standing before his large desk.

Once they’d settled, he cleared his throat and, plainly unsure whom to address, eventually looked at Thomas and Montague.

“If I understood the matter correctly, you wish to identify the owners of several accounts for which, I presume, you have the relevant numbers.”

Thomas nodded, and Montague replied, “Indeed. That is what we require in a nutshell. Three accounts with, very likely, three individual owners.”

Forbes hesitated, then glanced at Stokes. “Might I inquire what manner of case the identification of these three account holders relates to?”

He wanted to be assured that breaking the seal of confidentiality any customer of Moreton’s would expect him to preserve could be justified. However reluctantly, Penelope had to approve of Forbes’s caution.

With every evidence of patience, Stokes explained about the gun-running scheme. “Such a scheme, of course, qualifies as treason. The account holders we seek to identify were, in effect, the financiers behind the scheme.”

“Without them,” Barnaby stated, “the scheme could not have existed, and we believe it’s been active for at least two years.”

“We might have stopped one shipment,” Jordan put in, “but others went out over previous months.”

Forbes’s eyes had rounded. “Good Lord. Treason, you say?”

“Indeed,” Stokes replied. “And I should add that the trail that led us to the gun runner started with a murder.”

“We believe it’s possible,” Barnaby said, “that the murder of a man-of-business in his office not far away in Broad Street was committed by or at the behest of one of the three backers of the scheme.”

“Good heavens!” The news caused a dramatic change in Forbes’s demeanor. He looked from Stokes to Montague and Thomas. “You said you have the account numbers?”

Stokes drew out Chesterton’s account book, and Montague and Thomas rose. Montague took the book from Stokes and waved Forbes to his chair behind the desk. “Sit, and we’ll show you what we need.”

Forbes did as he was bid, sat in his chair, and Montague opened the notebook and set it on the blotter before Forbes. Coming to stand on Forbes’s other side, Thomas pointed to the relevant entries. “These three accounts are the ones we wish to trace.”

Frowning, Forbes studied the entries.

Thomas calmly went on, “The notebook details payments into and out of an account held by Moreton’s.

Consequently, the easiest way to identify the holders of the three crediting accounts, each of which presumably comes from some other bank”—Thomas flicked a glance at the others, warning them not to correct that statement—“will be to compare this accounting with your official registers, which will detail which bank each payment came from and also confirm the account number.”

Vaguely, Forbes nodded. “Yes. I see. And of course, you’re right.” He glanced at Stokes. “This is not an account I handle personally. If you will permit, I’ll fetch the account ledger, and we can see what that reveals.”

Stokes inclined his head in acquiescence, and looking greatly troubled, Forbes jotted down Chesterton’s account number, then taking the number, rose and left the room.

Montague and Thomas exchanged knowing glances, then returned to their chairs.

In a bare two minutes, Forbes was back, carrying a large ledger and wearing an even deeper frown.

He shut the door, then faced the company.

“This account—the account whose details are in that notebook—was opened by a member of the public about two years ago, when Moreton’s was still a public bank.

” Forbes looked at Stokes and Barnaby. “Consequently, those of us currently at Moreton’s, which is now solely for private clients, are not familiar with the holders of these older public accounts. ”

“We know who that account belongs to,” Stokes replied. “One Cornelius Chesterton.”

Forbes looked at the front page of the ledger he held. “Oh. Yes. Quite right.”

The banker was plainly rattled—more rattled than he had been before.

Noting that, Montague waved Forbes back to his chair behind the desk, and as he sat, Thomas mildly suggested, “Let’s concentrate on those three crediting accounts.

” He waited while Forbes opened the bank ledger and flicked through the pages to locate the entries relating to said accounts.

Once he had, Thomas asked, “First point of interest—from which bank were those deposits transferred?”

Forbes ran his eye down the ledger page, checking as he went against Chesterton’s notebook. Then his finger paused. He stared at the ledger, then looked again at the notebook, and his face paled. He sat back, his gaze locked on the ledger entries. Faintly, he said, “Oh, I say...”

Montague shared a vindicated look with Thomas, then Thomas regarded Forbes and gently prompted, “I take it that all three crediting accounts are held by Moreton’s?”

Forbes swallowed and, his complexion quite pasty, nodded. Then he gathered himself and looked up. “Yes. All three.” He glanced at Stokes. “And now I’ve looked more closely, I believe I recognize the accounts.”

Calmly, Stokes drew out his notebook. “Who owns those three accounts?”

Forbes’s lips pressed tight. He was clearly torn.

Penelope stated, “Mr. Forbes, we are hunting a murderer and dealing with three men known to be behind the smuggling of treasonous contraband. Any law-abiding person, no matter their rank or occupation, should assist the police in whatever way they can.”

Forbes regarded her, then slowly nodded. “Indeed, ma’am. You’re right.” He looked at Stokes. “But please let me check the account numbers before I give you the names. I don’t want to make any mistake in such a serious matter.”

Stokes nodded his acquiescence, and Barnaby added, “That’s entirely understandable.”

Forbes rose and crossed to a handsome brass-and-polished-wood filing cabinet that stood against the wall. He pulled out the top drawer, reached inside, and straightened with a long list in his hand.

As Forbes returned to the desk, his gaze going to the ledger, Thomas said, “It would be helpful, Forbes, if you would write down the names alongside the account numbers.” When on resuming his chair, Forbes glanced at him, Thomas smiled and added, “This will become official evidence, after all—best you do all the police need you to do at once so the inspector or his men don’t need to return again later. ”

That wasn’t quite a threat, yet it served to focus Forbes on delivering what they needed.

He drew out a clean sheet of headed notepaper, picked up his pen, dipped it in his inkwell, then working from his account list yet also crosschecking Chesterton’s ledger and the account book to make absolutely sure, he started to write.

“It would be helpful,” Stokes murmured, “if you would sign the list once it’s complete.”

“And add your official title,” Penelope said.

Forbes glanced briefly at them, then returned to his task.

Three minutes later, he sat back, stared at what he’d written, then blotted the sheet and picked it up.

His hand shook slightly as he held the list out to whoever wished to take it.

“These are the names of the three gentlemen who own the three accounts that made regular deposits into Mr. Chesterton’s account. ”

Being closest, Thomas took the sheet. He scanned the names, and his brows rose. He looked at Montague and handed the list to him.

Montague took it, read it, and his expression also changed to one of mild surprise tinged with intrigue.

Thomas looked at Forbes, who was clearly shaken. “Thank you, Forbes. By readily rendering such vital assistance to Scotland Yard in such a fraught case, you’ve solidified my confidence in you and Moreton’s.”

Forbes looked relieved, and a hint of color returned to his pale cheeks. “I…I’m pleased to have been of help.”

Montague had passed the sheet to Penelope. She angled it so Barnaby and Stokes could read it, too, and Jordan rose and, over their shoulders, scanned the list.

On seeing the names associated with the three accounts, Barnaby understood Thomas’s and Montague’s reactions. Also Forbes’s uncertainty. The Honorable Mr. James Winter, Mr. Claude Haverstock, and Mr. Herbert Huxtable were not names one would have expected to be allied with gun running.