The silence stretched between them again.
The clock chimed the quarter hour.
"So," Carcel said, straightening his spine. "We have a mole in the print shop. We have an unknown enemy with deep pockets. And we have a deadline. The wedding is in two months."
"I can remove the mole," Vance offered. His voice was devoid of emotion, as if he were discussing removing a stain from a rug.
"Parker can be... encouraged to leave London. Or I can have Mr. Hobbs fire him."
"No," Carcel said instantly.
Vance raised an eyebrow. "Your Grace?"
"If we fire Parker, the enemy will know we are onto them," Carcel explained. His mind was working fast now, moving pieces on a mental chessboard. "They will just find another way in. They will bribe a maid, or a footman, or break into the shop at night. If we remove Parker, we lose our only link to them."
