"Yes, but which one?"

"We check them all," I said.

Grenville gave me a look of dismay. I had always wondered how Grenville would respond when my adventures turned into dogged work, but to his credit, he did not try to wriggle out of his offer to help. "It will take less time if we recruit Bartholomew and Matthias and divide the search."

"Some areas are more likely than others," I assured him. "Not every corner in London sports an unsavory pawnbroker. And the theft will be talked about. We might be able to pry loose some information, at the very least."

Grenville squared his shoulders, wincing a little because the wound he'd received during our last investigation still pained him. "Very well. I will change my boots and soldier on."

The carriage listed around the corner, and I braced my walking stick against the floor to steady myself. The handle was shaped like a the head of a goose and bore the inscription, Captain G. Lacey, 1817. A gift, and a fine one, and it gave me an idea.

"I know someone who does understand the ways of lady rivals," I said.

Grenville knew exactly who I meant. He shot me a grin. "Ah, but will she help?"

"Who can say? She will either be interested or show me the door." Lady Breckenridge was nothing if not unpredictable.

"Her observations are usually directly on the mark," Grenville said. "I saw her last week at a garden party, where she told me that if I'd hurt myself during the Sudbury affair, it was my own fault for not taking proper care when it came to you. Any friend of Captain Lacey, she said, was bound to come to some kind of danger, and that I was a fool to take what you did lightly."

My fingers twitched on the walking stick. "Considering I almost got the poor woman roasted alive, that remark was almost kind."

"And probably true, with regard to me. I tend to believe myself untouchable."