“It was addressed to her.”

“And intercepted by the woman in charge of screening her letters, who acted accordingly.”

“Lady Matheson. She was their target?”

“If they knew how things worked at the Palace, then that would be logical.”

“Then she’s being drawn into a trap by someone. Maybe we’ll know more when we get those photographs tomorrow. We should bring the letters to Jimmy the Scribe. I’d like his take on them. I wonder if we’ll beat the police to the punch on this.”

“They don’t know what we know,” said Gwen, picking up a pair of newspapers from her nightstand and handing them to Iris. “Guess who is the lead investigator?”

“‘Man found stabbed to death in Poplar Dock warehouse,’” Iris read. “‘Name being withheld by authorities pending notification … enquiries being made … anyone with information should contact Detective Superintendent Philip Parham.’ Parham again! The Rota of Fortune has turned and landed on us twice. Well, we needn’t worry about the competition if he’s on the case.”

“I wonder if your ex is assisting him on this one,” said Gwen.

“Mike should be in the midst of his honeymoon at the moment,” said Iris.

“Oh! That happened already? You never mentioned it.”

“Needless to say, I wasn’t invited to the wedding,” said Iris. “C’est la vie. Or c’est la guerre. I’m not sure where we stood when we left it. I’ve moved on.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s what I do best.”

“Fine. How was Hagia Sophia?”

“Enlightening. I ran into one old friend, and saw a second.”

“Tell me everything.”

Archie sat at his kitchen table, making a list.

1. Office. Strongbox?

2. Office next door.

3. Somewhere else in the building.

Somewhere else would make things difficult, he thought. Plenty of places to hide it, but less safe. Custodian could find it. Workers renovating offices. Rats. There’s always rats.

4. Her flat.

5. Bainbridge house.

6. Bank deposit box.

7. With a friend.

So. One and two were easy. One-man job. He knew a few yeggs he could trust with it. But it wasn’t likely that Sparks would still be holding the bread on the premises at this point.

He crossed out the first three.

Her flat, then? Not a big place, but she’d been there long enough to find or make a hidey-hole. He hadn’t exactly been scouting it when he paid his mercy visit the other day, and he hadn’t seen the bedroom.

He was hoping to see it, he thought sadly. But five thousand pounds were five thousand pounds, and she was merely a girl he’d had two dates with.

Well, three, according to her. All he did was bring her whisky and curry, but women had their own funny ways of counting things. He had come away from there feeling pretty good, considering all he got out of it was a peck on the cheek.

Money, Arch, he admonished himself. Remember the money.

He wouldn’t need a full-blown yegg for the flat. If Sparks had a hidey-hole there, it was more likely used for keeping weapons than money and jewelry. She was a practical girl. She’d know enough to keep valuables outside the flat.