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Trainor was available. She returned home to find visitors in the parlour; Chas toasting currant buns before the fire and passing them to Barstie, who was covering them liberally with strawberry jam spooned from a jar.
    ‘Only the best, Miss Doughty,’ said Chas with a smile and a wink, as Sarah brought tea and plates. He was looking comfortable and prosperous, and Frances hoped fervently that he was not about to make a declaration of affection. He had once hinted that her expertise in maintaining the account books of her father’s business had excited his esteem, something he would not be able to acknowledge openly until he felt financially settled. While she wished him every success, she would be perfectly happy if he found another lady with which to share it. ‘Now then, you wanted to know all about the late Dr Mackenzie and his associates. I’m sorry to say there isn’t really a lot to tell.’
    ‘A very peculiar place, the Life House,’ said Barstie, thoughtfully. ‘I shouldn’t care for it myself.’ Barstie, a slender individual lounging casually opposite his plumper friend, had, Frances knew, spent the last two years in the amorous pursuit of an heiress who had so far remained immune to his attentions, a situation which gave him a permanently mournful air.
    ‘It’s one business I can think of where the customers don’t complain,’ said Chas. ‘If they’re dead why they can’t, and if they sit up again and take notice, well that’s all to the good. And families will pay any amount for peace of mind and a decent disposal of the remains. Death is the one certainty in life. There’s good money in death.’
    Barstie sighed as if he could already see Chas making plans to open a new business.
    ‘Dr Mackenzie was not a prosperous man,’ said Frances. ‘I have seen his lodgings and they were very modest.’
    ‘He was a man of high principles,’ said Chas, ‘at least he always represented himself as one, and such men never prosper. He first promoted the idea of a Life House in 1862 , although it was three years before he could open it. It was partly paid for with his own money, part came from Dr Bonner and the rest was collected by public subscription. He was paid the smallest salary he felt the business could afford, but it has not made a good profit yet, although it may well do in future. Funerals, on the other hand – you could name your price. We could start small, Barstie – lap dogs and kittens, pet monkeys and such like.’ Barstie’s despondency increased, but Chas breezed on.
    ‘Dr Bonner, now he is financially comfortable, but it’s not because of the Life House. Did well out of his medical practice, did even better by marrying a widow with property but no standing in society. Better still, she ignores him and spends all her time on ladies’ committees. He amuses himself nowadays by seeing rich patients with troublesome ailments who pay for his discretion, and elderly persons with something in the funds who he can persuade to become customers of the Life House.’ Sarah poured tea and handed him a cup, and he smiled and helped himself to a bun. ‘You are very kind, Miss Smith.’ Sarah did not look especially kind, but then she so rarely did.
    ‘Dr Warrinder,’ said Barstie, ‘is not a man of wealth, but neither is he poor. He used to be a consultant at the Hospital for Diseases of the Throat and Chest in Golden Square. Then there was that unfortunate occurrence three years ago, when a lady died after an operation. Words were said and Dr Warrinder thought it best to retire – from tending to the living at any rate. He lives quietly and modestly now.’
    ‘And Dr Darscot?’ asked Frances. ‘Does he work at the Life House?’
    The two men glanced at each other with surprised expressions and shook their heads. ‘No, the only men employed at the Life House are the three directors and the two orderlies. No one called Darscot.’
    After they had left Frances examined a local directory,