‘But then this guy, the Austrian.’ Brian lines the two figurines up shoulder to shoulder. ‘He’s a senior officer, but Feldmarchall-Leutnant max, right?’ He slides a piece of paper across and points to the Feldmarchall-Leutnant among the row of officers’ uniforms. ‘That’s like a, what, brigadier? He’s not the Kaiser. Not even Archduke Charles, say, if you’re thinking battles like Aspern-Essling and Wagram. So, they’re not an obvious pair, emperor and brigadier. If they’re part of a set, it must have been a pretty big set. And I’ve never heard of it, not as a factory product. There was the Russian imperial set – the Tsar’s own, made by a jeweller – of soldiers from the Napoleonic Wars. It was big, but there’s no record of it having an Austrian, so it’s not that.’ He picks the two figures up, one in each hand, testing the weights against each other. ‘I’m not even sure they’re lead. Iron, maybe? Who made iron soldiers in the late nineteenth century?’ He looks at Simon, and then at me.

‘I’m going to assume that’s rhetorical.’

‘Me too,’ Simon says.

‘Post-1860 but pre-World War Two.’ Brian’s still following the same thought. ‘You’ve got factory-based solid soldier production really getting going in Germany around 1860, Heyde getting their licence in 1872. But lead, that was lead . . .’

‘Wait, I think it was Ellen’s husband’s grandfather’s.’ It’s the mention of the dates that makes me remember it. ‘The possibly Napoleon one. I think she said it was a toy of his grandfather’s, and his grandfather was a Civil War veteran. American Civil War.’

‘Except that puts it around 1850, or earlier.’ He tips the figurine up and checks its base. It’s blank. ‘But it might not even be lead, so it’s breaking rules already. Maybe it’s tin? Same density as iron, roundabout, but who was casting tin soldiers in 1850? And doing such a nice job of it?’

‘Simon has that tin one downstairs from around that time.’ It’s in his cabinet of curiosities.

‘My Prussian infantry officer?’ Simon says. ‘It’s flat, though. Different ballgame. Those were made between two pieces of engraved slate, rather than a fully 3D mould.’ He holds his hand out and takes the figurine from Brian. ‘This is cast in a mould. Anyway, it’s brilliant.’ He turns it over in his hand. ‘I’ll be researching the crap out of it for years. If this guy and my Austrian are from the same set, I’ll track it down somehow.’

‘Just wait,’ Brian says to me. ‘He’ll be sending off paint flakes for analysis. To the people who tell you your hundred-million-pound Monet is real or not.’

‘I will,’ Simon says forcefully, jabbing Napoleon’s head in Brian’s direction. He laughs. ‘Well, I might. I kept the paint that came off the Austrian . . .’