Day smiled, despite his worry. Kingsley laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Kingsley said.
“Of course. I never drank the water here.”
“I meant. . Whoever that deformed American fellow was, you’ll have to live with the fact that you killed him. That’s not always an easy thing.”
“I had no choice.”
“I’m sure you didn’t.”
Day looked away from Kingsley’s probing gaze. He wasn’t comfortable with deception, but now that he had committed to the lie, he intended to stick to it. He wouldn’t be blamed for the killing, and Peter Price had been through enough in a week. The boy didn’t need to be labeled a murderer on top of everything else. Day wanted him to have a chance at a good life.
He changed the subject. “What about Henry?” he said.
“He’s decided to stay on with me here for a bit.”
“But he seemed so anxious to get back home.”
“Well,” Kingsley said, “it’s entirely your fault for giving him that little magpie.”
“How is that?”
“Henry says the city is no place to raise a baby.”
