He was barely in time for the cab that Maria had summoned for half past seven from the stand outside St Catherine’s Church. He had hurriedly flung on his suit and run a comb through his hair while Maria sat impatiently in the hallway, her heavy woollen coat wrapped tightly around her in anticipation of the chilly journey to St Stephen’s Green.

The warmth of the club was welcoming. Lafeyre was, as usual, a perfectly attentive host, paying particular attention to Maria, ensuring that she was seated comfortably where she could receive the heat from the turf fire in the dining room. The elegant room was filled to capacity with a lively hum of conversation and laughter from the diners while a string quartet played in the background.

‘Ever been to Berlin, Harry?’ Swallow asked, as the waiter served a steaming turtle soup at the table. Lafeyre sipped approvingly at the accompanying Amontillado.

‘Berlin? No. What’s your interest in Berlin?’

‘I might have to travel there. The Berlin police are holding a likely suspect in the Alice Flannery murder.’

Maria’s face clouded with anxiety.

‘You never told me anything about this,’ she said. ‘Nothing at all.’

Swallow grimaced an apology.

‘Sorry, I should have. It’s not certain, just a possibility. It’s up to Mallon. I’m not even sure he can come up with the money.’

‘How long would you be gone?’

‘Oh, just a matter of days. If it happens.’

Maria’s smile was rueful.

‘I know you, Joe Swallow. You wouldn’t mention it if it wasn’t going to happen. You’re telling me this gently, aren’t you?’

‘What’s the journey? How long does it take?’ Lafeyre intervened, sensing the tension between them.

‘London and on to Paris,’ Swallow said. ‘Then a further train journey through Cologne. That takes about a day. Travel shouldn’t be more than two days each way. Then say two days to interview the suspect. I’d be back within the week, give or take a day or two.’

Lily smiled protectively at Maria.

‘I’ll mind my sister if you’re away, Joe. She’ll be well looked after. But don’t you dally over there. You’re needed here.’ She laughed. ‘And we’ve all heard stories of the night entertainments in Paris.’

‘Oh, you needn’t fear,’ Swallow grinned. ‘I doubt I’d even be allowed to stay a night there. Jack Burton, Mallon’s clerk, is a notorious skinflint. He’ll pare down costs to the bone.’

At midnight, the quartet played ‘Auld Lang Syne’. There was a champagne toast to the New Year. Lafeyre and Lily kissed, as did Swallow and Maria.

When they sat into the cab to travel home, he put his arm around her and drew her closely in so that she could take warmth from him.

‘Summer,’ she said, as the cab rounded the corner into Grafton Street.

‘Summer?’