He sat in the car for a while, smoking a cigarette and thinking about it. Faulkner was a highly intelligent man and something of a natural actor. He enjoyed putting on a show and being at the centre of things. His weakness obviously lay in his disposition to sudden, irrational violence, to a complete emotional turnabout during which he lost all control or at least that’s what his past history seemed to indicate. If only he could be pushed over the edge …

Miller was filled with a kind of restless excitement at the prospect of the encounter to come and that was no good at all. He parked the car beside the corner gate of Jubilee Park, buttoned his trenchcoat up to the chin and went for a walk.

He didn’t mind the heavy rain – rather liked it, in fact. It somehow seemed to hold him safe in a small private world in which he was free to think without distraction. He walked aimlessly for twenty minutes or so, turning from one path to another, not really seeing very much, his mind concentrated on one thing.

If he had been a little more alert he would have noticed the figure of a man disappearing fast round the side of the old folks’ shelter as he approached, but he didn’t and the Gunner watched him go, heart in mouth, from behind a rhododendron bush.

When Miller walked into the flat and found Joanna Hartmann and Morgan standing by the fire he wasn’t in the least put out for their presence suited him very well indeed.

He smiled and nodded to the woman as he unbuttoned his damp raincoat. ‘We seem to have seen rather a lot of each other during the past twenty-four hours.’

‘Is there any reason why I shouldn’t be here?’ she demanded coldly.

‘Good heavens no. I’ve got one or two loose ends to tie up with Mr Faulkner. Shouldn’t take more than five minutes.’

‘I understand you’ve already asked him a great. many questions,’ Morgan said, ‘and now you intend to ask some more. I think we have a right to know where we stand in this matter.’

‘Are you asking me as his legal representative?’

‘Naturally.’

‘Quite unnecessary, I assure you,’ Miller lied smoothly. ‘I’m simply asking him to help me with my enquiries, that’s all. He isn’t the only one involved.’

‘I’m happy to hear it.’

‘Shut up, Jack, there’s a good chap,’ Faulkner cut in. ‘If you’ve anything to say to me, then get on with it, Miller. The sooner this damned thing is cleared up, the sooner I can get back to work.’

‘Fair enough.’ Miller moved towards the statues. ‘In a way we have a parallel problem. I understand you started five weeks ago with one figure. In a manner of speaking, so did I.’