Sparks picked up the close-up picture and held it up for all to see, then walked over to Sally, who looked at it.

“That’s the man I saw come out of the warehouse,” he said. “The one with the limp.”

“Mr. Cornell, did he walk with a limp when you saw him?”

“No, Miss Sparks, he did not.”

She turned to face their former captive, looking at him contemptuously.

“How about it?” she said, holding it up.

“That’s him, you clever little witch,” he said.

“Know him?”

“Never saw him before that afternoon.”

She turned back to her audience.

“Three men found their way to that warehouse before we arrived,” she said. “Sally has told you how he learned about the location. This man got that information as we did—from the conversation in the office.”

“But he was never in the office,” protested Lady Matheson. “He couldn’t have been—my bodyguard was—Oh!”

Stallings made a break for the door, but Archie’s men were waiting. There was a struggle in the dark, then a blow and a cry. Then two of them brought Stallings forwards into the light, holding his arms behind his back. A bruise was forming on his jaw.

“Five thousand pounds is a lot of money, isn’t it, Mr. Stallings?” Sparks asked softly. “You were standing right outside our door, guarding—and listening. You passed the information to your confederate, who was waiting on the stairwell, and off he went.”

“He wasn’t supposed to kill no one,” said Stallings. “He never knew the Greek fellow was going to be there.”

“No, he was waiting with a knife for two young women to show up with a bag of money,” she said. “What was he going to do to the two young women? Especially if they resisted? Who was he, Stallings?”

Stallings said nothing.

“We don’t need you to answer that question,” she said. “This morning, I brought copies of these photographs and the results of our investigation to Detective Superintendent Parham of the CID. Get any results yet?”

“As a matter of fact, we have,” said a man, stepping forwards.

He removed his mask and nodded convivially at the room, smiling slightly as most of the spivs recoiled.

“At ease, gentlemen,” said Parham. “I’m with the Homicide and Serious Crime Command. Your preferred activities don’t interest me at the moment. Mr. Stallings, this afternoon we arrested Zacharias Stallings on suspicion of the murder of Nikolas Magoulias. A cousin of yours, I believe?”

Stallings said nothing, his body sagging between the two men holding him.

“Upon examination of the suspect, we found a recent knife wound on the back of his right calf,” continued Parham. “It had become rather badly infected, I’m afraid, so he is currently in hospital, but we expect him to pull through well enough to face the gallows. When the ladies have finished their presentation, I shall be taking you into custody for conspiracy and other charges. Ladies?”

“Thank you, Detective Superintendent,” said Mrs. Bainbridge. “Now, that accounts for the murderer’s presence at the scene, but what about the late Mr. Magoulias? How did he get there? Was he also there for the money? We believe it was for something else. We suspected at first that there might have been a plot to destroy the budding romance between Prince Philip and Princess Elizabeth. The elevation of a member of the Greek royal family in exile to this status would be a tremendous boost to those supporting their restoration to the throne, while Prince Philip’s disgrace would provide equal support to those opposing it. But we realised—”