The bag was now full to the brim, so I left it at that and carried my haul back down the stairs. I took my coat from the hook in the hallway, put it on, and headed into the living room to collect Chief. I took him in a fireman’s lift. He was heavier than I expected, and I could still smell the Becherovka on him. I picked up the bag with my spare hand and half-staggered to the hallway, taking care not to move too fast - the batteries in the torch were going and the last thing I needed now was to break a vase.

By the time I’d reached the front door, my shoulders were starting to ache. I rested for a moment, then switched hands on the bag so I could open the door. I nearly cricked my neck doing it, but I eventually managed to squeeze through.

I locked the door a final time, pocketed the key, and stumbled down the stairs onto the drive. By moving the car, I’d ensured a longer walk for myself. I focused on the thought that had Pritchard arrived before I’d moved it, I would have had to kill him, too. And, as I had already reasoned, I couldn’t stage disappearances for both of them.

It had started to rain: just a drizzle, but the wind was gusting it around. I got a sudden whiff of urine, and held my breath for a few seconds. There were some large beeches with plenty of shadow, and I headed for them. I had to stop several times, but then, somehow, I was there. I let Chief slide to my feet. I could see by the moon now, so I let the torch fall into the bag, then counted to ten before picking him up again, ready to attack the final few steps to the car.

Crunch.

Wheels on gravel. I froze. Then, in one movement, I stepped back a pace, deeper into the undergrowth.

A moment later, headlights flooded the drive.

I dropped the bag and laid Chief on the ground by my feet, then turned up the lapels of my coat and buttoned them across so that nothing of my shirt or jacket could be seen. It wasn’t the best camouflage routine I’d ever executed, but it might make all the difference.

The car sidled up alongside Chief’s Bentley. The driver craned his neck out of the window to check whether he was near the verge. I could make out a few features: silver hair, glasses, and a neat little beard.

Pritchard.