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wife’s, he had begun combing hair from the side of his head over the top to cover a pinkish scalp. He’s nervous, I told myself. He doesn’t want to go, and he needs this Whitechapel fellow trapped quickly.
    “How long do I have to consider?” Barker asked.
    “Oh, buckets of time. Bushels full. Five minutes, perhaps?”
    Barker gave a grim smile. I wondered what was going on in his head. There were several elements to this offer that Barker might find unpalatable. He would have to work with others, many of whom he did not trust. We would have to shut our agency’s doors, which Barker had never done before, and we had no idea how long it would take to track down the killer once we began. The more I thought about it, the more absurd the offer began to sound.
    “I’ll do it,” Barker growled from the confines of his chair.
    “Perhaps you should—” I began, but Barker reached across and shook Anderson’s hand. The die was cast. It was on his head now.
    I felt I was the only one who realized our world was about to be turned upside down. The worst part was that most of the work would fall on me. The Guv was like a forward in a football match. He could be relied upon to kick the ball into the net, but he expected others to get the ball to him, and woe to us if we disappointed him.
    “I really must get home to pack,” Anderson said, rising. “If I leave it to my wife, she’ll make sure all my favorite articles are left behind and take only the suits she prefers me to wear.”
    Barker’s old friend reached into his coat pocket and handed him an envelope with a wax seal. Buckingham Palace. Had we been finessed? I hated for our services to be a foregone conclusion.
    Anderson shook our hands again and took his leave. He was on the stair when Barker suddenly waved me after him.
    “See him to a hansom cab,” he murmured. “In fact, bring one here to him.”
    I was up in a flash and running down the staircase. Anderson was descending with an unsteady hand on the wall. He is normally a gaunt but vigorous fellow, but with this stress and overwork, he looked frail. I did not try to help him, but hovered nearby in case he needed help. He reached the bottom of the stair without incident, and a minute or two later the ground floor. We proceeded out the front door, but there he stopped and put his hands on his knees and stooped.
    I found a cab for him in Newington Causeway and brought it back to our door. Helping him in, I thumped on the side of the cab and it jingled away. Then I went back upstairs to Barker’s rooftop nest.
    “Did you see him off safely?” Barker asked.
    “Safe enough. His face was rather pale. The man needs a rest.”
    “Thank you, Thomas. I’m sure you spared him his dignity.”
    I nodded and sniffed. It is a funny little country in which we live. Criticisms are taken to heart, but any compliment is quickly brushed away.
    The Guv had moved to his rack of meerschaums by the window. He selected his largest pipe, tiny white hounds cornering a ghostly stag at bay, and began shoveling tobacco into the bowl.
    “You wanted in on this case from the start,” I said.
    He acted as if I’d said nothing and snapped a vesta alive on a French porcelain striker. One puff, two puffs. Three. He blew out the match and tossed it into an ashtray by his chair.
    “You will not vouchsafe an opinion,” I said.
    “There is no possible opinion to give,” he answered, blowing a gust of smoke toward the fireplace. “I have not seen a shred of evidence or read a single report, or even spoken to a constable.”
    “Yet you jumped at the chance to take the case. Why?”
    “Because Anderson asked me to, and he is a friend. Because he needs me, too, so he can recover from overwork. And because it might return us to Scotland Yard’s good graces. Are those good enough reasons for you, or shall I continue?”
    He just wanted in on an interesting case, I thought, the first to come along in a while. Frankly, I felt the same