The two men stood looking at it in silence.

And then Kepple said, ‘So, are you impressed?’

‘It’s a glass box filled with bits of wood. How should I interpret it?’

‘Look more closely. Peer within. Go on. It’s rather fun.’

Hobbes did so. He found that his sight quickly became lost in the criss-crossing of the branches. And then one moved, shifting out of position, then another, and one more, until the whole assemblage moved into a new configuration. And right in the centre of it all, there was an eye peering out at him: a human eye, blinking.

The inspector moved back a little, in his surprise.

‘What is that?’

Kepple was delighted at the reaction. ‘It’s all part of the exhibition. Miss Devine works with a number of volunteers, both male and female, on a daily rota. She applies the pieces of wood to the volunteer’s body, and—’

‘You’re saying that people volunteer for this?’

‘Why not? They are amply paid, and it’s only for three hours at a time.’ Kepple smiled broadly. ‘Rest assured, I do let them out for the call of nature. If needed.’

Hobbes leaned over to peer down into the tank. It was like looking for an insect with a camouflaged carapace. But he saw now that the person inside was a woman. He could make out very little of her, for almost her entire body was clothed in the twigs, leaves and other materials.

Kepple explained, ‘This is Nell. She was very excited to be here today.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I told her a real-life police detective was coming to visit, to view the exhibit.’

Hobbes had to smile, a little. And in response the figure in the box moved again, the twigs crackling and almost snapping in places. Dust and seeds floated here and there. Her face was briefly seen – time enough for a smile – then hidden once more.

‘It’s very impressive,’ Hobbes said. ‘I admire her resilience.’

‘But, you see, you cannot make her out properly. No matter how hard you look, the pattern will always change. That is the whole point: in this new age of which I dream, the patterns will never settle, they will never be decoded.’

Hobbes frowned. ‘But what if I should buy this piece?’

‘I doubt you could afford it.’

‘Of course not. But if I did … would the person inside be included?’

‘Ha. No, sadly not. You have to provide your own occupant. It would make a fabulous talking point at a dinner party.’

‘Or the purchaser might take their own place in the box.’

Kepple clapped his hands together. ‘Yes, why not? If they so desired.’

They moved away from the glass box, back into the main gallery area. Hobbes said, ‘You mentioned before about having an epiphany, when you were young. What was that?’

‘It’s quite simple. My grandmother saw something in me, some potential. You’ll have seen the various paintings in Bridlemere? It’s quite a collection.’

‘Yes. She gave you one?’