‘You’re confusing me with someone else.’

‘The man who hired you to kill me gave me your name and address. I shot him dead by way of a thank you.’ Vane backed away. ‘Stay where you are or I’ll drop you as well.’ He got off the bed and stood upright. ‘This place of yours is very comfortable. You’re obviously well paid for your work. I was promised a large reward as well, then I was betrayed.’

‘That wasn’t my doing. I didn’t make the decision.’

‘Then who did?’

‘The man you claim to have killed.’

‘He was only a link in the chain,’ said the other. ‘I want the name of the person who hatched this plot in the first place. Give me that and I might show you some mercy by simply shooting at one your kneecaps.’ He aimed the pistol at Vane’s leg. ‘Who is he?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Vane, shrinking away.

‘Your friend must have told you.’

‘But he didn’t. I was only hired to kill you.’

‘What about my lodging? Who broke in there and stole my money? Who wrecked the place out of spite?’ Vane was writhing. ‘What malevolent little toad destroyed almost everything I owned?’

‘I hated having to do that.’

‘Ah, so you admit it now.’

‘I was told to recover the money.’

‘You did a lot more than that, Mr Vane. That’s why I vowed that I’d kill the pair of you. This may be a pleasant lodging but it’s remarkably easy to break into. I’ve been here for over an hour, waiting for you. I passed the time by rearranging some of your things. Oh, yes,’ he added, ‘and I found most of the money you stole from me. You should have found a better hiding place than that trunk of yours.’

‘I’ll get much more,’ said Vane, gabbling. ‘Take me to my bank and I’ll withdraw all I have. It’s yours for the taking.’

‘So is your life.’

‘No, please – we can come to some arrangement.’

‘Get down on your knees and beg.’

‘If I knew the name you want, I’d tell you at once.’

‘Get down!’ snapped the other.

Vane fell to his knees and started jabbering. Standing behind him, the assassin put a bullet in his skull. Exulting in his rage, he left the house swiftly through the upstairs rear window he’d used to get into it.

Peter’s estimate of the man was very much the same as that of his brother. Hugh Denley was spiky, secretive and rancorous. Answering some questions with obvious annoyance, he refused even to consider the rest. Time and again, he insisted that he had a right to privacy.

‘Privacy doesn’t exist in a murder investigation,’ said Peter.

‘I had nothing whatsoever to do with what happened.’

‘You had a definite link with Sir Roger Mellanby.’