Page 36 of A Debt Inherited

“Aye, sir.”

The word betrayed him when he forgot to smooth it. Scotland still sat beneath his London service, just as it sat beneath Kerr’s own vowels when fatigue took hold.

Price hesitated.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, sir.”

“Nothing seldom waits at a door.”

The man’s eyes lifted, not quite meeting his. “Mrs Price says as there’s no need for wine this week.”

Kerr sat back. “Did she?”

“She did, sir.”

“And you agree?”

Price glanced towards the sideboard, where one bottle stood with two inches left. “A house may go without wine better than it goes without coal.”

There was no insolence in it.

Kerr folded the bill. “Your wife has principles.”

“She has accounts, sir. Principles are dearer.”

For the first time that evening, Kerr nearly smiled. “Tell Mrs Price she may keep both, if she can make them balance.”

Price gave the smallest bow. “Yes, sir.”

He turned to go.

“Price.”

The man stopped.

“How long were you in constable’s work?”

The silence changed its weight.

“Long enough to leave it, sir.”

“That was not an answer.”

“No, sir.”

Kerr watched him. “Did you leave it willingly?”

Price’s jaw set, then eased. “Willingly enough by the time I went.”

“And before?”

“Before, there was a man at Seven Dials who thought his knife quicker than my hand. He was wrong, but not wrong enough.”

Kerr looked at the scar that vanished into Price’s sleeve. He had noticed it before and not asked.

“You have acquaintances there still?”