‘Back to the station, please.’

‘She didn’t look like a master criminal to me,’ said the cabbie.

‘You’re right. But her late husband was a Gunners’ fan.’

‘Is that a crime?’

‘It is if you support Chelsea,’ said William, which created the silence he needed while he thought about what his next move should be.

Ross and Danny were waiting for him at the taxi rank, one smiling, one frowning. He took the frown first.

‘Not a dickybird,’ said Danny. ‘The ticket collector let me know, ever so politely, that over a thousand passengers commute into London every weekday, and that on a Saturday, if the footy’s on, it’s even more. As far as he was concerned, the bloke in the picture looked like any other city gent, so how could he possibly be expected to remember him?’

‘And you, Ross?’

‘I also drew a blank, except that one driver had a strange experience you might want to hear about. He’s just taking a customer to a local hotel, but should be back in a few minutes.’

‘Time for a coffee break,’ said Danny, hopefully.

William nodded in the direction of the station’s café. Once they’d found a table, he said, ‘I’ll sum up where I think we are, and you can tell me if I’ve missed anything.

‘We’ve found the car we believe Faulkner was driving, which is now on its way to the local pound. We’ll probably have to wait a couple of days to see if they come up with any dabs. Somehow, I doubt it, but I haven’t given up on the chauffeur’s cap, which I’ll drop into forensics as soon as we get back to the Yard.’

‘Did Rose come up with anything worthwhile?’ asked Ross.

‘An eighteen-carat gem. Not only did she recognize Faulkner from the photograph, but saw him get into a taxi. Now we just need to find out which one.’

‘That’s him,’ said Ross, looking out of the window. ‘He’s just pulled up outside the station.’

‘I’ll go and have a word with him while you finish your coffees,’ said William. He drained his second cup of tea that morning, and crossed the road to join the last cab on the rank.

‘Sorry guv,’ said the cabbie. ‘You have to take the one at the front.’

‘I’m not looking for a cab, but one of yesterday’s passengers. My colleague tells me you didn’t recognize this man,’ said William, showing him the photograph of Neville, ‘but you had a fare who acted strangely?’

‘An odd one that,’ said the cabbie, ‘but I never saw his face, so I can’t be sure that’s him.’

‘What was odd about him?’

‘He gets into the back before I have a chance to look at him. Nothing unusual about that, but then he tucks himself in the left-hand corner of the seat so I can’t see him in my rear-view mirror. That sometimes means they’re planning to do a runner without paying. But when I asked him where he wanted to go, he had such a toffee-nosed accent I relaxed.’