Page 75 of Speculations in Sin

“And you don’t know who made these adjustments?” Ipointed to numbers that had been crossed out, new numbers and initials written alongside them, some with the stylizedH’s andI’s I’d noted before.

“The banker who sent down this document did not make the changes—I do knowhishandwriting,” Sam said. “They were inserted after they left his desk, presumably between the bankers’ room and the junior clerks’ room. Junior clerks are not taught to notice anything, simply to copy and file, and then to pass the information to the senior clerks, who write the checks.”

Such arrogance, along with the opportunity to make the changes, pointed to someone like Mr. Zachary. He could intercept papers at any time, or the bankers might have been told that those documents were to come to him first, no matter what. A banker who didn’t want to lose his job would obey without question.

“If we discover who made these annotations,” I concluded, “we’ll find the embezzler?”

“In theory,” Daniel said. “A man may disguise his writing if he’s up to something and doesn’t want to be found out. But a study of all handwriting at Daalman’s might help.”

“I doubt anyone will let you do that,” Sam said. “They’d never even allow you in the door, McAdam. Miss Swann is very particular about who is admitted.”

“She might be persuaded.” Daniel’s eyes sparkled as he doubtless contemplated which guise he’d use to enter the lofty bank. “But I have easier ways of gaining information.”

He did not elaborate, but I assumed he meant his man on the inside, whoever that was.

“We are also going to discover whether any of the employees are living more expensively than they should,” I told Sam.

Sam did not share my optimism. “Stockley had begun to investigate that. He so far had found no one living extravagantly,except for Mr. Zachary. Zachary purchased a large house near Hampstead Heath and dwells there in high style, but everyone knows this. The bank’s owners don’t approve. They live in fine but modest homes, pouring most of their earnings back into Daalman’s.”

I was liking Mr. Zachary more and more as a suspect. He’d been nervous when Cynthia and I had visited, though I admitted that the murder of Mr. Stockley could have accounted for his uneasiness. But his high-handedness, his luxurious home, and the fact that he could doctor any papers he wished made me long to find the man and shake a confession from him.

“We shall see,” I said, counseling myself to caution. “For now, Sam, if you and Mr. Thanos can discover anything more in those papers that can help, please send word to Daniel. I will return on Thursday to see if you are well—if that will even be necessary.”

I said this last brightly, assuring Sam that he’d be home and free by that time. He did not believe me, but he started to rise, his chains preventing him from standing all the way up.

“I am so very grateful to you, Kat.” Sam ignored me waving him back to his seat. “For making sure Joanna is all right and trying your best to help my case. Your friends have been diligent for me, and they don’t even know me.” He leaned heavily on his hands, his shackles clanking. “At one time in my life, I’d never have believed there was such kindness in the world.”

“I would do anything for Joanna,” I said without hesitation. “And not only are my friends kind, but they are clever. We will win, Sam. You can depend upon it.”

“Ibelieve you, Mrs. Holloway,” Mr. Thanos said. He’d hopped to his feet, his eyes shining behind his spectacles—which were staying firmly in place today, instead of falling off every time he bent his head. “You can count on her, Mr. Millburn. Mrs.Holloway is brilliant at these things. Absolutely brilliant. Oh, and so is McAdam.”

Daniel laughed as Mr. Thanos added him as an afterthought. “Bear up, Millburn,” Daniel said. “Enjoy Kat’s cakes. Always a comfort in times of madness.”

He was being absurd, but Sam nodded in fervent agreement. “Thank you for that as well,” he said to me. “Please tell Joanna…” Sam broke off and sank dejectedly into his chair, his words choked. Mr. Thanos patted his shoulder in sympathy.

“I will tell her you love her desperately,” I said. “Though she already knows that. Good afternoon, Sam. Make certain Mr. Thanos leaves some scones for you.”

I sent Mr. Thanos a little smile, and he chortled. “I will be sure to, Mrs. H.,” he said.

* * *

I once again melted in relief when we emerged from Newgate, even with the freezing January wind pouring down the street at us.

“What do we do now?” I asked Daniel. I hunkered into him as we made our way up the street to Lewis’s cab. “I’d hoped Mr. Thanos could look at those papers and tell us exactly who had done what, but they were more complex than I thought.”

“Even Thanos can’t divine the name of the person from scribbles on a page,” Daniel said. “But do not worry. We’ll smoke him out.” He spoke with determination.

“Or her,” I said. “Miss Swann could have intercepted the papers and made the changes. Though I’m not certain she could insert false contracts into the works without someone noticing. But she seems a competent woman, disdainful of slower-witted men.”

“We have her address.” Daniel handed me into the cab before he pulled a paper from his pocket as Lewis started off toward the Holborn Viaduct. The page contained a scrawled list of names, streets, and house numbers, presumably obtained from Daniel’s man at Daalman’s. “Shall we look at Miss Swann’s house first? Discover if she has a mansion in Mayfair and a hundred servants at her beck and call?”

“Great Marylebone Street is not Mayfair,” I said, peering at the list. “But let us proceed there. Miss Swann might have a gilded carriage or a fortune in artwork—neither of which we will be able to see from passing in the road, I must point out.”

Daniel grinned and called the address to Lewis, who nodded and continued along High Holborn. That road became Oxford Street, and from there Lewis turned north into Regent Street. We clopped past the elegant pile of the Langham Hotel and soon reached Great Marylebone Street.

The neighborhood we entered held quiet elegance, but the homes were nothing like Mayfair mansions. The residence the paper guided us to sat on a corner of a smaller lane. Squat and narrow, the house had a door and two windows on the ground floor and three windows on each of the two floors above this. An iron railing separated the stairs that led to the kitchen from the street.

“Very nice,” Daniel proclaimed. “But nothing alarming. Miss Swann likely pays her lease from what she earns at the bank. Though she might also have family money from being a Daalman relation.”

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