There was a knock at the door and Martin entered, bearing towels and hot water, his face flatly expressionless as usual. ‘God give you good morrow, Master,’ he said. ‘It is another fine, warm day.’

‘Good morrow, Martin. Long may it continue.’ I looked at his solid back as he laid the bowl on the table, wondering what went on inside that head of close-cropped fair hair. What had he been looking for in my desk that time? And Josephine said he had been constantly enquiring about my friends and contacts when he first came. Trying to nose into my life. Yet Martin, as I had reminded Josephine, needed to know all about me if he were to perform his duties as steward. His old master, another barrister, had given me a glowing reference; Martin and Agnes had been with the man for ten years, and were only leaving because he was retiring and moving to the country. I did not have a forwarding address, so could not get in touch with him.

Martin turned and gave me his tight little smile. ‘Is there anything else, sir?’

‘No, Martin. Not this morning.’

AFTER BREAKFAST I WALKED up to Lincoln’s Inn, wondering how Nicholas and Barak were, and whether they had come in. I thought, I should have visited them instead of going to Coleswyn’s yesterday.

Barak was at his desk, working through some papers clumsily because of the heavy bandage on his left hand. Skelly looked at him curiously through his glasses. I could see no sign of Nicholas.

‘Young Overton not in?’ I asked with false jollity.

‘Not yet,’ Barak answered. ‘He’s late.’

Skelly looked up. ‘Mistress Slanning called first thing this morning She was in a – troubled state. She says she is going to a new lawyer.’

‘Yes. I thought that might happen.’

‘Should I send her a final bill?’

‘Yes, we had better. If we don’t she will take it as an admission of guilt or wrongdoing. With luck we shall not have to see her again.’

‘She said she was going to take the case to Master Dyrick, whom you had dealings with last year.’ Skelly looked at me curiously.

‘Really? Well, if she wants someone to run a hopeless case with the maximum vigour, and charge her for the pleasure of it, she could not do better than Vincent Dyrick.’ I turned to Barak. ‘Come through, would you, Jack?’

He followed me into my office and I motioned him to sit. ‘Dyrick again, eh? Well, they’ll suit each other,’ Barak said, managing a wry smile.

‘I am only glad to be out of it. And I doubt Dyrick will encourage her to make trouble for me; remember, I know things about him.’ I took a deep breath. ‘Jack, I am more sorry than I can say for what happened yesterday.’

‘I knew what I could be getting into.’