I half expected her to be at chambers when I arrived, ready for a fight, but all was quiet. Barak was making notes on some new cases to be heard at the Court of Requests when the Michaelmas term began in September.

‘What happened at the inspection?’ he asked eagerly.

‘The experts agreed that any attempt to remove the wall painting will make the plaster collapse.’

‘That’s it then? We’ll never have to see that woman’s sour face again?’

‘Oh, I think we will. She stormed out in high dudgeon; but somehow I suspect she’ll present herself here soon, probably today.’

Barak nodded to where Nicholas sat copying out a conveyance. ‘He has some news for you. Won’t tell me what it is. Been looking like the cat that got the cream.’

Nicholas stood. There was indeed a self-satisfied expression on the boy’s freckled face. ‘Come through,’ I said. As Nicholas followed me to my office I saw Barak frown and Skelly smile quietly to himself. Barak indeed seemed jealous of my involving my pupil in a mission from which he himself was excluded. I felt a momentary annoyance. I was only protecting him; Tamasin would skin him alive if she suspected I had involved him in court politics again, as well he knew.

I closed the door. ‘What is it?’ I asked Nicholas. ‘News of that sleeve?’

‘It is, sir.’ He removed the silk carefully from his pocket and laid it on the desk with his long, slim hands. ‘The second embroiderer I visited today recognized it instantly. He sewed the shirt for a client. Mention of Master Gullym’s name did the trick; the embroiderer knows him. He looked at his records. The shirt was made for a gentleman called Charles Stice. He gave me an address, down by Smithfield.’

‘Well done,’ I said.

‘There’s more. I noticed he wrinkled his nose when he spoke of Stice, so I asked what he was like. He said Stice was one of those young men who come into money or position and put on haughty airs.’ Nicholas was finding it hard to keep the excitement from his voice. ‘But here’s the thing, sir. Charles Stice is a tall, brown-haired young man with half an ear missing. Looked like he got the injury from a knife or a sword in a fight, the man said.’

I looked again at the little, ragged piece of silk. Nicholas said, ‘So this was left not by the men who killed Greening, but by those who fled into the garden after young Elias discovered them trying to break in earlier. They escaped the same way.’

I thought, and this Charles Stice was the man who had tried to suborn the Queen’s page, young Garet. ‘You have done well, Nicholas. Very well.’ I looked at him seriously. ‘But leave the matter with me now. This man is dangerous.’