“The others are property—buying and selling manufacturing premises, mostly. What with the war damage, there’s been a lot of cash churning about in London. And if money’s on the move, Abel usually manages to direct some of it his way. And there’s the secretarial services chain he’s just started. So many well-educated girls in the world looking for an opportunity to work! The unlucky ones run into Abel. He’s an excellent talent-spotter and ungenerous paymaster. Not so good at names. He wanted to call the business ‘Friday’s Girl.’ I made him change it to ‘Adsum!’ Seeing as all the bosses who want to snare these young ladies for their employ are public school educated, I thought they’d respond to a snappy Latin word for ‘Here I am! Present!’ A familiar word they’ve used all their formative years.”

“Yes, it sounds like someone reporting for duty,” Thoday said doubtfully. “And Man Friday . . . from Robinson Crusoe, I suppose? Changing it to Girl Friday . . . Friday’s Girl . . . and we all know what her attributes are, according to the rhyme . . .”

“Yup! ‘Friday’s child is loving and giving.’ And I see you agree—we want none of that on office premises!”

“Any more businesses we can rename?”

“No. That’s all he’s told me about.”

“And the gentleman he went off in pursuit of?”

“Eh? How do you know that? Is this why you’re searching for Abel? Well, he was no gentleman. A tramp. He was trying to get at Abel. Came into the tea shop, bold as brass, calling his name. Funny, that—he shouted ‘Lieutenant Hardy’ at him to get his attention. Lieutenant? Abe always told me he was a captain . . . so perhaps it was someone who knew him from way back? I guessed he must have been an old army contact, fallen on hard times. Hoping for a handout. Anyway, Abe wasn’t best pleased to see him and didn’t interfere when the fat old feller tried to chuck him out. But he was interested, all right—he went straight off after him. But in a detective sort of way, like . . .”

“Trailing him?”

“That’s right. And that was the last I saw of him this time round. Worried? No! He’s always doing it. He knows I’ll just get on and fend for myself . . . I find things to do, but with the boys away at school, I’m not so busy as I was. Well, here we are, Sergeant. Anything else?”

“One last thing,” Thoday asked on the off-chance, scarcely expecting an answer, “Did you happen to notice a gowned university man the tramp was talking to outside the tea shop?”

“Oh yes,” replied the detective’s wife. “Six foot two inches tall, dark hair, midthirties, shifty-looking cove. St. Jude’s College.”

Thoday began to burble. “But how . . . ?”