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He walked around the first row of gravestones, cutting diagonally across the churchyard so as to arrive at the church gate at the same time as Mr. Stanley. Alexander waited for the count of ten, then he took a parallel path, coming up behind the boys. Up ahead, the church gate creaked, and Alexander heard Toole’s voice.

“Mr. Stanley?”

“Who’s askin’?”

“Hugh Toole. I’m in the market for a chimney sweep, and I hear you’re the best in the county.”

“There ain’t anyone better in the four neighboring counties either.”

Alexander increased his pace. Toole knew what he was about. His smooth tongue had worked miracles on Mrs. Smith last night and would do the same on Mr. Stanley this morning. It was time that Alexander focused on his portion of their partnership.

“David.” He spoke the name softly, and the middle-sized boy turned and gave him a curious look. “Is your name David?”

His curiosity had become wariness. “Maybe.”

“I am Lord Bloxley, and I am looking for a certain Daniel, David, and Elijah who used to live with the Stanleys in High Brodmore.”

The youngest boy sidled up to the middle boy. “I used to live in High Brodmore.”

“Hush, Eli,” the boy said.

“Do you remember Asher, Eli?” Alexander said. “He’s a friend of mine.”

Eli cocked his head to one side. “You know Asher?”

“I do, and he was very sad when you left.”

The oldest boy grabbed Eli’s shirt and tugged. “Quit yer chattering, Eli. Yer goin’ to get us in trouble.”

“Are you Daniel?” Alexander asked.

“Daniel died a year ago,” the middle boy said. “I’m David, and that’s Francis.”

Alexander braced himself, almost afraid to ask. “Did he die in a chimney?”

“He got stuck. Jasper lit the fire under him, but he didn’t come out.”

It was all Alexander could do to keep his feet planted on the ground. If it had not been more important to secure the safety of these boys, he surely would have confronted the man right then.

“Hush yer mouth,” Francis said. “Jasper will tan yer hide fer talkin’ too much.”

Vaguely aware that the steady stream of churchgoers who had passed them by with an inquisitive glance or two had trickled to none, Alexander homed in on Francis’s speech pattern. It was unlike that of the other two boys, and it was imperative that Alexander learn his background.

“Are you from High Brodmore too, Francis?”

“Me? Nah. Jasper picked me up from the work ’ouse in Effingham.” He clamped his mouth shut as though suddenly realizing he’d said too much.

Effingham was not far from Guildford. The workhouse there would be an ideal place to find apprentices. Most of the children were orphans, and life there would be even harsher than life as a chimney sweep.

“How old are you, Francis?”

The boy attempted to stand taller. “Nine. Goin’ on ten. An’ it won’t be long afore I’m a regular chimney sweep.”

This was the child who had taken Benjamin’s spot. Legally, there was little Alexander could do for him, and he was suddenly overwhelmingly grateful that Jane was not with him. It would have broken her heart to leave this boy behind, but thankfully, he was already too tall to crawl through the flues and would soon be strong enough to work from the fireplaces.

“What about you, David?”

“Seven,” the boy said quietly.