‘Why not?’

‘It’s more than my life is worth.’

‘You don’t have a life any more,’ said the assassin, using the butt of the pistol to club him to the ground. ‘Since you choose to keep your mouth shut, then I’ll shut it for good. Say your prayers.’

Putting the gun to the man’s head, he pulled the trigger.

Chevy Ruddock was tireless. Reverting to his original plan, he stopped anyone who had the remotest similarity to the description he’d been given of Giles Clearwater and he questioned them. In every case, he drew a blank. Nobody had ever heard of the man. Several of those he approached were piqued at the way they were confronted and spoke sharply to him. He withstood all insults with unwavering bravery. Even though he was rebuked and sneered at by men from a much higher social class, Ruddock stuck to his task. When he’d made no progress in a couple of hours, he returned to the Golden Crown, only to find that Simeon Howlett was asleep in his usual chair. Unsure if he should wake the man or simply creep away, he stood there dithering for minutes. When he finally decided to leave the old man to his dreams, he was grabbed by a wrinkly hand.

‘Don’t go,’ said Howlett. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’

‘Did you remember who he was?’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘I’m trying to find a man named Giles Clearwater.’

‘That name sounds familiar.’

‘You told me you’d try to remember why.’

‘Did I?’

‘It’s important that I find this man. He could help us to solve a murder.’

‘This is all very confusing, young man,’ said Howlett, scratching his head. ‘Give me a moment to collect my thoughts. A reviving drink would not come amiss.’

‘I bought you one earlier and got nothing in return.’

‘My brain always responds to alcohol.’

‘Give me the information I want,’ said Ruddock, asserting his authority, ‘and I might oblige you, but be warned – I won’t be exploited. Stop playing tricks or I’ll walk out of here.’

‘But I’m desperate to help you.’

‘Then let’s have no more shilly-shallying.’

‘I’ve been cudgelling my brain for ages.’

‘And what’s the result?’

‘I did know the man you’re after,’ claimed Howlett, ‘but I can’t recall when and where I met him. But it will come back,’ he went on, clutching at Ruddock’s sleeve. ‘It’s shameful, isn’t it? I was once lauded as one of the finest actors on the stage. I’d committed every great Shakespearean soliloquy to memory and could declaim them at the drop of a hat. Now, however, I can’t even remember the name of a play itself, let alone any of its lines. It’s embarrassing.’

‘In short,’ said Ruddock, ‘you’ve forgotten all about Clearwater.’