Asa was hardly the early riser, but Jules had been confident in his ability to shoo the young man away before Gavin Ireland arrived. Oh, the tall man whined and grumbled, pulling his thick tweed coat over his shoulders with a collection of varied huffs and eye rolls. "Do some observing," Jules suggested, "see if you can learn any more about those well-off buggers down by the shore. You were so interested in learning about them yesterday, aye?"

The argument that continuing his chat with the gardener would yield plenty of useful information was hardly convincing enough for Jules. No, Jules had the feeling he needed to converse with this curious man alone. Asa could busy himself well enough today.

Ten minutes after Asa had tumbled out the front door still rubbing sleep from the corners of his eyes, a rapping sounded against the thick wood. Ah, good to know Mr Ireland can keep an appointment. 

"Sir." Jules welcomed Gavin with a polite nod of the head, waving him inside to save him from the brisk morning air. "Welcome. Can I get you anything this morning? Something to warm the bones, perhaps? We have plenty more bohea should it interest you." He waved Gavin toward his work bench. "You can place the shoes right there on the table, Mr... Ireland." 

Curious eyes followed as his client passed, the weight of the knife suddenly seeming to double. Who was this illusive man with the faux accent, and how hard was Jules going to have to work in order to find out?