He took Darcy’s arm and ushered him off down a side hallway. I sensed we were being given what the Americans would call the brush-off. Our matter was not important enough for the ambassador himself, or somebody didn’t want us getting involved. Perhaps the inspector from the Garda had warned the Americans not to include us in any more details. We waited, and a minute or two later the men returned, both looking grave.

“If you’d care to follow me to a reception room,” the man said. At least we were not being shown the door. Perhaps we would be waiting for the ambassador to be free. We were shown into a pleasant room overlooking the gardens. The view would have been lovely in summer, I thought. Now the rhododendron bushes were dancing crazily and sleet was already peppering the windows. We took our places on the sofa and armchairs around the fire. The lanky American pulled up a straight-backed chair and sat facing us. This was unexpected. I shot Darcy a glance.

“This is Mr. Lennox,” Darcy said. “He has been notified about us and I think he’s just the person we need to help us.”

He didn’t say it but now I realized that this was the man planted at the embassy from the FBI, the man who could get things moving. Darcy introduced us and told Mr. Lennox about our escapade the afternoon before. “So we now have photographs of the man’s employee, as well as his fingerprints.”

“Well done.” Lennox nodded appreciation to Zou Zou and me. “That was smart thinking.”

“I hope the prints are clear enough,” Zou Zou said. “I made sure the photograph was wiped clean before I handed it to him.”

“I’m sure we’ll be able to glean some good prints from it,” Lennox said. “And get them off to Washington for a match.”

“Won’t that take an awfully long time?” Zou Zou asked.

“Not at all. We now have the facility to send photographs via the cable, just as one would a message. Brilliant technology, developed by RCA a few years ago. Now AT and T has a facsimile service that can send a picture in six minutes. Speeds things up no end. If this man has a criminal record of any kind, we should know in a day or two.”

“How absolutely clever of you.” Zou Zou gave him her dazzling smile, which made him blush bright red. I was rather glad I didn’t have that effect on men.

“And speaking of fingerprints,” Lennox went on, “I have some news to share with you. I went to the morgue yesterday to take the victim’s fingerprints, and . . . he doesn’t appear to have any.”

“Oh, do fingerprints fade after death?” Zou Zou asked.