“I think so. He’s exposed. In fact, his game’s over. His tool, his murderer for hire, is lying chilled in a drawer in the safekeeping of Doc Beaufort. Likewise, his Machiavellian go-between, ringmaster Fanshawe. Dickie Dunne, I’d say, was a victim on his list who proved too quick and clever for him, but he’s been smart enough to remove himself from the scene anyway, like an eel in the sand. I’m surprised you didn’t trip over him in Yorkshire.”

“So we’re saying he’s achieved his aims. Worked his way through his list. A list that corresponds to the one General Whitcliffe sent us. Dunne, Hardy, Jessup . . . all witnesses to his shameful crimes in the past, whatever they were. Let’s just settle for theft involving diamonds, according to Ratty, treachery and false allegations . . . calumny, that’s a good one . . . yet, Merriman and Sexton remain unscathed. Why?”

“Ran out of time?”

“Ratty knows—Ernie Jessup confided in him. I warned him to keep a sharp eye out. Unnecessary, perhaps. That chap’s got the sharpest pair of eyes I’ve ever seen, and then he’s got Rita guarding his stumps.” He rolled an expressive eye. “Sexton? Photographic evidence, which I’m about to show you, would indicate that he’s an ally and no danger at all. No, barring police interference, the future of this amateur lies in his own soft hands.”

“All the same. In my book, sir, he’s poison. Bad stock, like your Russian Vine. Hacked back for the moment, but still deeply rooted. And in our patch. I’ll be watching him until you feel strong enough to seek that arrest warrant.”

In whatever company Earwig Stretton found herself, she became the lightning conductor. Redfyre smiled and waved at his old friend across the crowded King’s Parade. His thought was not a flattering one. Earwig herself would have used a phrase like “life and soul” or “catalyst” to describe the effect she had on a crowd, but Redfyre knew that she drew trouble down towards her and anyone who happened to be taking shelter from the storm in her environs. When he saw Earwig loom over the horizon, he put on his tin helmet and prepared for the flash bangs to go off. He gave her another wave, which clearly indicated, I’m here and happy, and I know what I’m doing. Carry on—you don’t need me.