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case, or some cases would never be heard."

Sullivan gave a slight shrug and half turned away. "I am aware of the difficulties of the law, and justice," he said without expression. "Is someone accusing blackmail? Or is all this merely theoretical?"

Rathbone steadied his breathing with difficulty. Sullivan was a judge. Rathbone had stolen the information from Ballinger, which he could not afford to have anyone know, for his own sake, for Cribb's, possibly even for Margaret's. But Rathbone had something to learn, and something to redeem. He must lie.

"Regrettably, I believe it to be fact, at least in one case, possibly more. Phillips does nothing unless there is profit for him in it. In the case of supplying boys to satisfy these appetites, there is double profit, first for the satisfaction itself, second to keep silence afterwards, because in some instances, if not all, it is illegal. It seems these men will not, or cannot, control themselves, even when it is of such fearful cost to them." He watched the blood ebb from Sullivan's skin, leaving his cheeks blotched. His expression did not change in the slightest.

"I see," he said very quietly, in little more than a whisper.

"I was certain you would," Rathbone agreed. "Since they are obviously men who can pay blackmail sufficient to keep Phillips's silence, they are wealthy men, and so likely to also be men of power, and even of far-reaching influence. We can have no idea who they are."

"You do not need to spell it out, Rathbone. I perceive where you are going. It is very grave, as you say. And if you throw around wild and rash accusations, you will place yourself in very great danger indeed. I imagine you realize that?" It was quite definitely a question, and it required an answer.

"Of course I do, my lord," Rathbone said grimly. "I have taken intense care regarding to whom I spoke about this." It might not be wise to let Sullivan think he had told no one else. "But I cannot ignore it. The potential for corruption is too great."

"Corruption?" Sullivan asked, staring at Rathbone. "Are you not exaggerating a trifle? If certain men have... tastes that you deplore, is their private behavior, or the company they keep, really your concern?"

"If they can be blackmailed for money, then I suppose that it is not," Rathbone replied, measuring every word. "Then they are victims, but until they complain, it is a private suffering."

A footman passed, hesitated, and moved on. A woman laughed.

"But if they are men of power," he continued. "And the price is no longer money but the abuse of that power, then it is the business of us all. Most particularly if the power concerned is high office in finance, or government, or most especially in the judiciary." His eyes met Sullivan's squarely, and it was Sullivan who flinched and looked away.

"What if this man were to pay his blackmail in blindness to bending the law?" he asked. "Or what if he used fraud, embezzlement of money to pay Phillips, after his own funds have run out? Or police authority, to allow or even abet in a crime? Port authorities might overlook smuggling, theft, even murder on the river. Lawyers, or even judges, may corrupt the law itself. Who can say who is involved, or how far it may seep into the fabric of all we believe in, all that separates us from the jungle?"

Sullivan swayed, his face gray.

"Get a grip on yourself, man!" Rathbone said between his teeth. "I'm not going to let this pass. Those boys are beaten and sodomized, and the ones who rebel are tortured and murdered. You and I have both connived to let Phillips get away with it, and you and I are going to put that right!"

"You can't," Sullivan said weakly "No one can stop him. You've seen that. You were used just as much as I was. If you turn against him now, he'll say you were a customer, and defended him to save yourself That your payment was blackmail." Hope flickered on his face, pasty and sheened with sweat. He took several steps backwards, but there was nowhere to escape to.

Rathbone followed him, even further away from the crowd. People assumed they were speaking confidentially and left them alone. The crowd swirled around them and away, oblivious.

"How in God's name did this happen to you?" Rathbone demanded. "Sit down, before you fall over and make a complete fool of yourself."

Sullivan's eyes widened as if