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way.
    “It is your agency, sir. You may run it as you see fit.”
    “See if I don’t!” he said.
    “I hope he isn’t correct about the Yard holding us responsible for Anderson being hired.”
    “Either way, Thomas, you may rest assured of one thing.”
    “And what is that, sir?”
    “As you so eloquently told Robert, you will be paid handsomely.”
    I nodded. “There is that.”
    “You should go to bed. You were up late last night, and we have a busy day in the morning.”
    “Doing what, exactly?” I asked. “What’s going to happen when we walk through the doors of Scotland Yard?”
    “I have no idea,” he said. “But I’ve pledged to Robert that we will do our best for him, and so we shall.”

 
    CHAPTER FOUR
    Barker was up at his usual time the next morning, shortly after five. By the time I was shaven and dressed it was six-thirty and I barely had time to eat and to drink a cup of pressed coffee before the Guv came in from the garden. He had been issuing instructions to the gardeners: more mulch for this plant, and less nitrate for that. The garden was to look austere, as all Asian gardens do, so the trick was to keep the plants alive without actually letting them flourish. I suspected he felt the same way about his assistants.
    “Come along, lad. We mustn’t be late for our first day,” he said, waving me out the door. I was certain no one would miss us, or even notice if we failed to show up at all. No sooner did we find a cab in Newington Causeway than it began to rain, a thin, silvery drizzle which would keep on for hours. It pattered lightly on the top of the cab, but inside we were snug and dry. I wouldn’t have been a cabman, perched on the back of a moving hansom cab, exposed to all weathers, for all the tea in Canton.
    We reached our offices and there had our first conflict of the day, mild as it was.
    “Jeremy,” Barker said. “We are shutting the offices.”
    I watched the information sink in. It always takes our clerk a few moments to process information. Slowly, his eyes grew to the size of a penny.
    “Sir?”
    “We have taken a case with Scotland Yard. It requires us to shut our doors. You shall continue to keep the offices, but you must turn away anyone who wishes to hire our services. I imagine one could put a sign in the window, saying we are no longer taking clients. You may lock the door, if you wish. Thomas and I both have keys. Unless, of course, you prefer to stay home until I call again.”
    “For how long, sir?” the clerk asked, looking slightly distraught.
    “A month or so, I should think.”
    “But sir, there will be telephone calls and messages and telegrams. There are all manner of people coming and going.”
    “You must tell them our services are fully engaged at the moment, and we are not taking clients. It will be good for the agency’s reputation.”
    “What shall I do in the meantime, Mr. B? I’m staying, if that’s all right with you. Regular hours for me. But how will I fill them?”
    “You might have the floors polished and the furniture redone. Inspect the ceiling for cracks and have the doors repainted. Keep all the receipts, as per usual.”
    “You’re to pay me for doing nothing?”
    “Well, not nothing,” the Guv said.
    “Full wages?” Jenkins asked.
    “Of course.”
    “Hallelujah!”
    “Indeed.”
    Cyrus Barker rooted through his mahogany desk until he found a screwdriver. Then he stepped out into the steady downpour and unscrewed the brass plaque advertising his name and occupation which was attached to the railing. His suit grew wet as he worked and Jenkins jumped up and seized an umbrella, leaning out to hold it over him. I couldn’t think of anything to do beyond moving to the door, ready to take the wet plaque from his hands when it was finally free. The last screw always gives the most trouble. He tugged it free and handed it into my care.
    “There ye are,” he said. “Jenkins, have a man in and take down the hoarding