Miller looked as if he was about to give Spencer a dressing down, then reined himself in. ‘Get a patrol car and get straight over there. In the meantime, call the house and see if Tennison is there. And then contact Barnes police station and ask them to get over there urgently and check on Tennison’s safety.’

Spencer ran down the stairs two at a time, banging the door out into the yard. He collared one of the uniformed drivers and got the keys to drive, shouting at him to inform DI Miller he was on his way to Justine Harris’s.

*

Jane followed Justine into the drawing room, carrying her fresh cup of coffee. She could see from the clock on the mantelpiece that it was already ten to one. She thought she should call the station to check what was happening. Just as she was about to ask if she could use the phone, she noticed a large white envelope on the coffee table. It had been sealed shut with Sellotape and had a pink ribbon tied around it. In large loopy writing on the front was the word ‘Mummy’.

Justine frowned and untied the ribbon. ‘This is odd,’ she said, crossing over to the mantelpiece. She stared hard at the envelope in her left hand as she patted along the mantelpiece with her right hand. Then to Jane’s horror Justine held up a silver dagger. ‘I bought this in a bazaar in Morocco when I was filming there three years ago,’ she said, waving it in the air. ‘The blade’s terribly sharp, so I always keep it high up here on the mantelpiece, out of Clara’s reach.’

Jane pushed her back further into the chair as Justine continued to wave the dagger around. She could feel a rising sense of panic and tried to take some deep breaths unobtrusively as Elliott had taught her.

Justine quickly slit open the envelope, slicing through the Sellotape. She looked up at Jane as she placed the dagger back in its sheath and tossed it towards her.

‘Have a look, it’s really beautifully carved.’

Jane felt swamped with relief as she held the ornate dagger. Justine sat on the edge of the sofa opposite her, smiling broadly.

*

Spencer, with sirens blaring and lights flashing, drove as if he was competing in a Formula One race: at top speed, sometimes on the wrong side of the road, other times mounting the curb to avoid traffic. He was heading for the Hammersmith Bridge but there was no possibility of him overtaking the line of traffic crossing the bridge in single file. As he reached the traffic lights he shot through the red light and overtook vehicles heading towards the right-hand turn for Barnes. Any ill-feeling he had had towards Jane over the situation with the models had dissolved; all he was concerned about was her safety.

*