Dalgarno understood. “I see. What sort of quantities are we speaking of, Mr. Monk?”

From some untapped recess of memory, the answer came to his tongue. “Five hundred miles of track, to begin with,” he answered. “If it is successful, going up to at least two thousand over the next ten years. Approximately half of it would be over easy terrain, the other half would involve a good deal of cutting and blasting, probably at least five miles of tunneling. The rolling stock would begin with a hundred goods wagons, and perhaps as many passenger carriages, but we have excellent manufacturers in mind for the latter. Of course, we could always entertain another offer if it proved to be better.”

“Let me understand you, Mr. Monk.” Dalgarno’s expression was utterly relaxed, as if he were only mildly interested, but Monk could see the tension in the muscles beneath the eloquent lines of his jacket. Far more than anything he saw or heard betrayed in Dalgarno’s voice, he knew exactly how Dalgarno felt. He had sat in such a chair at Dalgarno’s age. He could feel it as if he were sitting there now. It was deeper than memory; it was an understanding almost in the bone. With no idea why, his mind could change places with Dalgarno’s.

“You are going to ask me if better means cheaper,” Monk said for him. “It means better value for the money, Mr. Dalgarno. It must be safe; accidents are expensive. And it must last. A thing that has to be replaced before its time is expensive, however little you pay for it. There is cost in purchase, in contracts, in haulage, in disposal of the old, and above all in idleness while you obtain the new.”

Dalgarno smiled-a broad, instinctive gesture. He had excellent teeth. “Your points are well taken, Mr. Monk. I can assure you that any offer Baltimore and Sons might make would meet with all your criteria.”

Monk smiled more widely himself. He had no intention of committing to anything, both because Dalgarno would have no respect for him if he did and because he wanted to remain in Dalgarno’s company for as long as possible. It was his only opportunity to form a personal opinion of the man. Already he found it hard to believe Dalgarno was anybody’s dupe. He would never meet Nolan Baltimore to know if he might have used and misled the younger members of his company, but if he had, Monk doubted it would have included this man opposite him. There was an alertness, a confidence in Dalgarno he could feel, as if he knew the man’s thoughts and could sense his nature. He understood very well why Katrina Harcus was in love with him, but not why she was convinced of his innocence. Surely that was a blindness of the heart?

“If I submit all the particulars,” Monk went on aloud, “would you be able to give me times, costs, and specifications within a month, Mr. Dalgarno?”

“Yes,” Dalgarno said without hesitation. “Delivery might take a little while, especially of rolling stock. We have a very large order in place already, to be shipped to India. That country is building at a great rate, as I am sure you are aware.”

“Yes, of course. But I am impressed that you ship to India!” He was astounded, although he could not have said why.

Dalgarno relaxed, putting his fingers together in a steeple in front of him. “Not us, Mr. Monk. Unfortunately, we are not yet large enough for that. But we are supplying components to another company. But I assume you know this.”

That was not really a question. He was taking it for granted that Monk was testing him, and he was allowing his candor to show.

Monk recovered himself rapidly. “Can you speak for your senior partner also?”

Dalgarno’s face clouded. It was impossible to tell if his hesitation was genuine or a matter of propriety. “Tragically, our senior partner died recently,” he answered. “But he is succeeded by his son, Mr. Jarvis Baltimore, who is more than able to take his place.”

“I’m sorry,” Monk said appropriately. “Please accept my condolences.”

“Thank you,” Dalgarno accepted. “You will appreciate that at this moment Mr. Jarvis Baltimore is somewhat occupied attending to family affairs, and endeavoring to be of comfort to his mother and sister. And that is where I should be this evening, Mr. Monk. Mr. Baltimore’s death was sudden and totally unexpected. But of course that is not your concern, and railways wait for no man. I give you my word we shall not let personal tragedy keep us from our duty. Any promise given by Baltimore and Sons will be honored to the letter.” He rose to his feet and held out his hand.

Monk took it, rising also. It was a firm, strong grip, unaffected. Dalgarno was extremely sure of himself, but with a sharp edge of hunger, an ambition in which Monk could see himself as he had once been… in fact, not so long ago. He had left merchant banking and financial venture far behind, but as a policeman that ambition had merely been redirected. Every case was still a battle, a personal challenge.

His charges from Katrina Harcus were to save Dalgarno and to prevent any possible disaster, and to do either of them he needed to have as much knowledge as he could of Jarvis Baltimore.

“One further question, Mr. Dalgarno,” he said casually. “There are always risks of land purchase posing problems. The best deals can founder on that if a section of the proposed track runs into difficulties. Not everyone sees progress as a blessing.”

Dalgarno’s face was mute testimony of his understanding.

“Who deals with that subject in your company?” Monk enquired. “Yourself? Or Mr. Baltimore?”

Was there a slight hesitation in Dalgarno, or was it only that Monk wanted to see it there?

“We’ve all dealt with it at one time or another,” Dalgarno replied. “As you say, it is a subject which can cause a great deal of concern.”

Monk frowned. “All?”

“The late Mr. Nolan Baltimore was also concerned with land,” Dalgarno explained.

“Indeed.” Monk was about to continue when the door opened and a man he instantly assumed to be Jarvis Baltimore stood in the entrance, his face a little flushed, his expression impatient. “Michael, I…” He saw Monk and stopped abruptly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had a client.” He held out his hand. “Jarvis Baltimore,” he introduced himself.

Monk took Baltimore’s hand and felt a grip a little too powerful, as of someone determined to exert his authority.

“Mr. Monk represents a client interested in a large purchase of rolling stock,” Dalgarno explained.

Baltimore fixed his expression into one of ease and interest, although his body still carried a barely suppressed tension. “I’m sure we can help you, Mr. Monk. If you give us your client’s requirements, we will quote for you on all goods.”

“And services?” Monk raised his eyebrows. “Mr. Dalgarno said you also have some skill in negotiating the purchase of land and right-of-way.”

Baltimore smiled. “Certainly. At a fee, of course!” He glanced quickly at Dalgarno, then back at Monk. “Now I’m afraid we must both leave the discussion for today. My family has very recently been bereaved, and Dalgarno is a close friend-one of us, almost. My mother and sister are expecting us both this evening…”

Monk looked to Dalgarno and saw the quick response in his face, the immediacy of his answer. Was that ambition, affection, pity? He had no way of telling.

“I’m sure you understand,” Baltimore went on.

“Of course,” Monk agreed. “Again, please accept my condolences. This was only a preliminary discussion. I will report back to my principals, and they will instruct me further. Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Baltimore, Mr. Dalgarno.”

He excused himself and took his leave, turning over impressions in his mind as he made his way home.

“What was Dalgarno like?” Hester asked him an hour later over a supper of grilled fish with mashed potato and onions. “Do you think he is involved in any kind of fraud?”