"He did not do it, Sergeant," I said.

Pomeroy shrugged. "That's as may be. But it's my duty to take in a man to face the magistrate. If you believe you can get him off, then I leave you to it. I won't hinder you."

He would not. Pomeroy liked getting convictions, because he would receive the reward money, but if a man were proved innocent, well then, the gent had had a bit of luck, and who was Pomeroy to rob him of it?

"I will certainly try," I said.

"Best to you," Pomeroy said cheerfully. "I'll be off then. Done all I can do here."

"What about Turner?" I asked. "If the coroner's been and gone, what is to become of his body? You cannot leave him in Lord Gillis's spare bedroom."

"Already taken care of, sir. Lord Gillis sent for Turner's man, who will trundle it back to Turner's ma and pa." He tugged his forelock. "'Night, sir. Mr. Grenville."

Grenville murmured his good-night, and Pomeroy trudged out, whistling a tune.

"Who is Turner's father?" I asked Grenville.

"Retired MP, lives in Epsom. Cousin to the Earl of Deptford."

As always, Grenville had everyone's pedigree in his pocket. "I would like to speak to him."

"I would, as well," Grenville said. "I will fix an appointment. But what about tonight? Will you speak to this Mrs. Harper?"

"Not yet," I said. I did need to visit her-she was key to this matter, but I had an even greater need to see someone else. "I must go to Louisa."

Grenville shot me a look. "She is with Lady Aline."