“Sounds divine,” said Iris.

“And you? Will you be observing the Lord’s day, or continuing the investigation?”

“Both,” said Iris. “I’m going to church.”

“Really? I was under the impression that you were an atheist.”

“I am. Atheist—a good Greek word.”

“We’re back to the Greeks, I see.”

“Which is why I will be attending services at the cathedral of Hagia Sophia.”

“The what?”

“The Cathedral of the Divine Wisdom. St. Sophia. The Greek Orthodox one in Bayswater.”

“Oh, I’ve been by it, but I’ve never been inside. What’s it like?”

“Lovely place. Good spot to pick up the local gossip, if one speaks Greek.”

“Which you do.”

“Not fluently, unfortunately. I’d be better off having a conversation with Erasmus than someone current, but I do have a smattering of Demotiki. The hometown Greeks, the diplomatic community, and the factions in exile will all show up. Even the Communists, hedging their bets with God. I’ll try and find out if anyone has heard anything about our late friend Magoulias.”

“You should take Sally.”

“Sally would be noticed,” said Iris. “I am a small, unobtrusive creature.”

“Small, yes, but hardly unobtrusive.”

“Oh, but I can be,” said Iris. “Look, I’m not comfortable leaving the money here now, and I don’t have anywhere secure enough in my flat. Take it with you and put it somewhere safe in that sprawling mansion you call home.”

“It’s not a mansion, it’s a townhouse,” said Gwen. “The mansion’s in the country.”

“Pardon me. Can you keep the money and the letters away from prying eyes?”

“I know a few good spots. I have an idea. Bayswater is just around the corner from Kensington. Why don’t you come by after and visit me during my convalescence?”

“Could I? Won’t I scandalise Lady Carolyne by bringing my sordid self onto the sacred Bainbridge premises?”

“That would be a bonus, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Very well, so long as I don’t end up chasing any leads after services. What excuse shall we make for me to be there?”

“We’re business partners, Iris. We don’t need an excuse to see each other.”

“You mean we’ll actually be using the truth,” said Iris. “What a strange idea!”

Gwen wrung out her sponge and examined the floor.

“Blood-free,” she pronounced. “I might be ready for that second career as a charlady.”

“Let’s clear out, then,” said Iris, giving her desk one last swipe. “I’ve had more than enough of this day.”

It was after ten when Gwen came home.

“Good evening, Percival,” she said, making sure her face was close enough for him to catch the traces of whisky still on her breath. “I’m not feeling altogether chipper. Could you send Millicent up with some bicarbonate of soda? And I don’t think that I shall be up to church in the morning, so please give everyone my regrets.”

“Very good, Mrs. Bainbridge,” said Percival.

She walked up the steps, wobbling slightly, which she realised was not just for effect. The eyes of Mr. Magoulias appeared before her, shining up at the ceiling, then lowering to stare accusingly in her direction, She clutched the banister for support.