‘Ok, Lydia, I’m not going to ask what this is about, but I’m afraid Rupert’s out on a call, so I tell you what I’ll do – I’ll come over. Would that help? To be frank, I probably know as much as him about childhood illnesses. Or do you want to put Johnny in your car and bring him over here?’

‘I can’t use the car. Truly, I can’t. You come here, Edie – and please hurry. She’s burning up with fever. I’m terrified.’

‘She?’

‘It’s not Johnny. I’ll explain when you get here.’

*

‘This name catches the eye.’ Felicity Vickery pointed to the entry in the address book. ‘Rupert Weir. He’s the police surgeon in Cambridge. There’s something in the back of my mind about him being involved in an incident with the professor.’

Jung wasn’t convinced, but perhaps it was better than nothing. The house at Harkham had revealed no clues.

‘Is he far from here, this doctor?’

‘Girton. That won’t take us very long.’

*

Edith Weir parked her much-loved Wolseley in front of Trinity Villa and eased her considerable girth out of the car. She and her husband Rupert enjoyed the fine things of life – food, wine and laughter. They were also faithful friends to Lydia and Tom.

‘Now then,’ she said, bustling upstairs from the hall, carrying a small leather valise. ‘Where is the poor little wretch?’

‘Listen, Edie, you have to know one or two things. The girl’s name is Klara. She is ten. She is German and she has only just arrived here by means of which I am not at liberty to tell you. But she is entrusted to my care.’

‘My German’s not very good, I’m afraid.’

‘Her father taught her English. If you speak clearly, she will understand you. But at the moment she’s not at all responsive.’

‘And where are her parents ?’

‘Both dead. And there are people who wish Klara dead, too. Which is why I am hiding out here rather than home.’

‘Gosh, Lydia, you have got yourself into a pickle. Does this put me in danger? Oh well, never mind if it does. Let’s just see what we can do for the child.’

Klara seemed agitated, but unaware of their presence. Her face was coated in perspiration and her breathing was troubled. Edie Weir took her pulse, placed the back of her hand on her brow, checked her lymph nodes for swelling, then turned to Lydia.

‘Has she been coughing?’

‘No, but her breathing has been fast.’

‘Convulsions?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Have you given her any water?’

‘Just a few sips. That’s all she’ll take.’

‘What’s her appetite been like?’

‘I couldn’t really say, Edie – the child has only been in my care today.’

‘But you think these symptoms have developed while she’s been with you?’