“Weaver.” Ellershaw spat out some of the brown kernel on which he chewed. “Where have you been? Do I pay you for your leisure time or for your labors?”

“I’m sorry to have missed you,” I said. “I was about an inspection of the warehouses when you called upon me.”

“If you were inspecting the warehouses, how is it that no one knew of your whereabouts?”

“Because I did not wish for them to know. Inspections are most effective when they are a surprise to those inspected.”

Ellershaw pondered this suggestion for a moment and then nodded slowly while he worked at the mass in his mouth. “Just so.”

Forester held in his hand a piece of blue fabric, which he studied most attentively. Indeed, he tried most assiduously to keep his eyes from wandering from the cloth. I suspected he did not trust himself to contain his expression should our eyes meet, and I thought that a useful detail. Forester believed himself unskilled at dissimulation.

“What is it you want?” Ellershaw now inquired of me.

“I only wanted to attend to you, as you called upon me, sir,” I said.

“I haven’t the time for you now,” he answered. “Can you not see that we are busy with things that are none of your concern? Is that not your opinion, Forester?”

Forester continued to cast his eyes downward. “It is. A man of his sort can have nothing to add to our discussion.”

“I say,” Ellershaw blurted out, “that is rather a harsh assessment. Weaver may not be a Company man, but he’s a sharp fellow. Do you think you have something to say to us, Weaver?”

“I do not know what you discuss,” I said.

“Nothing of interest to you,” Forester murmured.

“Only these cloths. What you see before you, Weaver, are the fabrics the Parliament, may it rot in hell, will permit us to sell domestically after Christmas. As you see, it is devilish little. Most of our trade on these islands will now be in these blues”-he held up a piece of light blue cotton-“and I fear what trade we do with it will be a mere shadow of our former enterprise.”

I said nothing.

“As you can see,” Forester said, “he has neither the experience nor interest for these matters. I mean no insult to the fellow, but he is not a man whose opinion you must solicit.”

“What is the cloth used for now?” I asked.

“Scarves,” Ellershaw said. “Stockings, cravats, other such accessories, and, of course, dresses for the ladies.”

“Then would it not be wise,” I suggested, “to encourage men of fashion to mold their suits out of this material?”

Forester let out a loud laugh. “A suit, you say? Even the most absurd of fops would not wear a suit of so feminine a color. The very idea is laughable.”

“Perhaps so,” I said with a shrug, “but Mr. Ellershaw has observed that the key to success is to allow the warehouses to drive fashion and not fashion the warehouses. You may sell as much of this material as you wish, so ought not the Company work to change the public’s perception rather than mold your product to their perceptions? As I have been made to understand it, you need only provide suits of this color to enough fashionable gentlemen in order for it to seem absurd no longer. Indeed, if you succeed, by next season no one will remember a time when suits of this shade of blue were unpopular.”

“Nonsense,” Forester said.

“No.” Ellershaw let out a breath. “He is right. This is the very thing. Begin to send notes to your associates in the world of fashion. Make appointments to have a tailor pay them a visit.”

“Sir, this is but the squandering of time and effort,” Forester answered. “No one will wear a suit of so foolish a color.”

“The world will wear these suits,” he answered. “Well done, Weaver. With only two weeks left before the Court meets, I may yet preserve myself. Now, back to your appointed tasks. I shall have more to say to you anon.”

I bowed to both men and departed, certain from the look on Forester’s face that I had done nothing more than fan the flames of the hatred for which he bore me.

THAT NIGHT, AT THE APPOINTED time, Carmichael met me behind the main warehouse. The sky was unusually dark-cloudy and moonless with the occasional fluttering touch of snow-and though the grounds were well lit, there were ample swaths of shadow in which to make our silent way. The dogs, by now, knew my scent and would not remark upon it, and we knew well the times of patrols and the routes the watchmen would take, so it was no difficult thing to move unseen in the cold darkness.

Carmichael took me toward the northernmost edge of the East India yards, where stood the building called the Greene House. It was four stories in height, but narrow, and in none the best shape. I had heard tell that it was scheduled to be brought down some time in the next year.

The door was naturally locked, as the watchmen could not be entrusted with access to the interior, not when they would be tempted to help themselves to whatever they could find inside. But as master watchman I was granted full access, and after waiting for one of the patrolling men, who had the staggering gait of one who’d been drinking too much small beer while at work, we made our way inside.

I had taken the precaution of hiding candles and tinder where I knew I would be able to retrieve them, after which, in the dark and echoing space, I turned to Carmichael ’s flickering face.

“Where to?”

“Up,” he said. “It’s on the top floor, which has fallen into disuse because it’s such horrible bad trouble to carry crates to and fro. And the stairs ain’t great, so we’ll have to be right careful. Also, stay away from the window with that light of yours. You don’t want anyone to see. No telling who is Aadil’s fellow and who ain’t.”

It was undeniably good advice, so I handed him the candle and determined to place my safety in his hands. It was entirely possible that Carmichael might not be what he appeared; that he might not be trustworthy or eager to help me at all. I had already encountered more double-dealing than was the norm, even in institutions like these companies, which bred backstabbing the way workhouses bred whores. For all that, I had no choice but to move forward, so I did, keeping close to my guide.

When we reached the top floor, Carmichael turned to me. “Here’s where it gets a bit thorny.”

When he held out the candle, I knew at once what he meant. The stairs were crumbling and broken, with no sign to indicate which parts would withstand the weight of a man and which would crumble under my feet. I presumed they could not be as fragile as they looked, for how else could Aadil and his followers haul crates up to the fourth floor? Nevertheless, I followed closely in Carmichael ’s footsteps.

When we reached the landing, he led me left, down a dusty corridor, until we stood before a door. I tried it and found it to be locked. I had come prepared, however, and removed from my pocket a set of picks that glistened in the light of Carmichael ’s candle. He, however, was not one to be outdone. In the spare light I saw the flash of a grin, and then he reached into his coat to hold up a key.

“I’m sure you’re right skillful with those picks, sir, but this here will do our business a mite more simple.”

I put the picks away, nodding in agreement. Taking the candle, I watched as he inserted the key and turned the knob and pushed open the door. Then with a grand gesture, originating in something I suspected other than politeness, he indicated that I should go first.

I did so, holding up my candle to illuminate a large, if not massive, room filled with crates of a variety of sizes. Some were stacked nearly to the ceiling; some lay scattered here and there as if with no reason. All were shut.

I set the candle down when I spied an iron bar, which I then gripped and approached the nearest container.