"My dear fellow, by all means. Whatever I can do."

"Thank you," Monk accepted immediately. On the journey there he had tried to decide exactly how to approach the subject without appearing intrusive in areas no gentleman would discuss. There was no easy solution. "It is another matter of delicacy," he began. "Perhaps a domestic issue, or possibly financial. It is all so undefined at the moment. And I do not wish to break anyone's confidence or jeopardize their privacy."

"Quite so," Sandeman said quickly. "Quite so." He looked relieved. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, wrinkling his trousers hopelessly. "So what can I tell you that may be of service?"

Monk began very carefully. "Are you familiar with the work of an architect named Killian Melville?"

Sandeman was quite openly surprised. "Yes! Yes, I am. Brilliant fellow. Unique. His work is quite new, you know? Nothing like anybody else's. Not in the least vulgar," he added quickly, in case Monk should misunderstand him. "He manages to make spaces look larger than they are. Don't know how he does it. Something to do with shades of color and the way lines are directed. Uses curves and arches in an unusual way." He drew breath to go on, then closed his mouth again. "Mustn't ask why you want to know."

Monk knew he was very conscious of his own need for privacy, and if Monk were to betray Melville or Lambert, then Sandeman would assume he would do the same to him. The situation required the most subtle handling. And yet if he were to be of any use to Rathbone he must discover Melville's secret, and do it before Monday morning. He was rash to have accepted the case, but he could never resist a challenge from Oliver Rathbone, however it was placed before him, however disguised. He thought wryly that probably Rathbone knew that when he had come.

He smiled at Sandeman. "I daresay it will be in the evening newspapers, if it was not in the morning ones," he acknowledged. "Unfortunately, those things cannot be kept private, as I believe they should be."

Sandeman raised his eyebrows. "Oh? I am sorry to hear that. Poor fellow. Surprised, mind you. Never heard the slightest whisper against him, myself." His eyes narrowed and he regarded Monk deceptively closely. His mild manner hid a more astute mind than many had supposed, to their cost. Still he refused to ask the nature of the charge.

"Not the slightest?" Monk pressed, knowing he must tread extremely carefully.