Wilde grinned. ‘You always did have a soft spot for the Reds, didn’t you?’

‘Give it a rest, Wilde. Do you want to go to see this unfortunate young woman in Sevenoaks?’

Wilde wanted to get back to Lydia and the children, but he was still interested in the events at Sevenoaks.

‘It is damned odd that he should take the time to go to Kent to kill his family. Why the hell would he do that?’

‘They say most murders are family affairs.’

‘You’ll get Special Branch on to the case?’

‘Indeed.’

‘Then I’ll leave it to them.’

In his heart he doubted there was much to be learned from the maid. He was more worried about Cashbone and Sunny. He couldn’t believe they were just sitting on their hands waiting for something to happen. There was something else, too.

‘Eaton,’ he said, ‘could I put a name to you? Anton Offenbach? He was my shadow in Germany, also involved with Sunny Somerfeld. Dead now, as Sunny may have told you. I couldn’t work out for the life of me who he really was.’

‘Offenbach? I’ll look into it,’ Eaton replied casually.

Wilde knew Eaton well enough to realise that the name definitely did mean something to him.

‘Meanwhile, I think you should come back with me and finish off that bottle, old boy. Have a kip in my spare room and weigh up your options. Come morning, you might see my point of view.’

Wilde nodded slowly. The offer sounded a fair option, for he needed sleep, badly. But it wouldn’t change his mind. He had to get back to Cambridge.

Eaton had thoughts of his own.

‘Look, Wilde, I know you’re not going to tell me where Lydia’s hiding with the German girl, but answer me this – was there anything in your own house to connect you to the hideout?’

Was there? It was a worrying notion, but for the life of him he couldn’t think what it might be. But then he was also aware that he was too tired to be thinking as lucidly as he might.

Soon they were back in Chelsea, a couple of streets from Eaton’s home.

‘Drop me off here,’ Wilde said.

‘I thought you were coming in.’

‘No. For all I know you have a welcoming party.’

‘Oh, to hell with you, Wilde.’ He braked hard. ‘It’s quite bloody obvious that you’re holed up in Cambridge itself. We will find you, you know.’

Wilde opened the door and stepped out.

‘Good night, Eaton.’

Chapter 31

CHAPTER 31