Once he’d made his escape from Vane’s house, he went to the address he’d found to weigh up the possibilities of breaking into it. It was a large, detached property with a garden at the rear. The rain was his accomplice, keeping many people off the streets. Under the cover of the darkness now falling, he climbed into the garden and inched forward towards the house so that he could try to work out the disposition of rooms. His paymaster had been in his thirties. He’d have a wife and, most probably, some children. There’d also be servants to bear in mind. The assassin had to move with care. He reasoned that the only safe place to enter the building was by means of the study. It would probably be on the ground floor and, since the man to whom it belonged had been so secretive by nature, it would certainly be locked. If he could gain access to it, the assassin might well be undisturbed. That, at least, was his hope. He was intending to make only a hasty visit. Once he’d found the name he was after, he would search for the money that should have been paid to him for his services.

He could then declare the contract over and done with.

Chevy Ruddock arrived at the Golden Crown with the messenger. Both had been caught in the rain. When he took off his hat to shake it, he set a small shower into the air. While the messenger went off to his parents, Ruddock looked around and was upset to see that Howlett’s usual chair was empty and that there was no sign of the old actor anywhere else in the room. His alarm was temporary. A door opened on the far side of the room and Howlett came shuffling in with a bag slung over one shoulder. Seeing his visitor, he gave him a wave.

‘Call of nature, my dear fellow,’ he explained. ‘Comfort restored.’

Howlett went to his table and Ruddock sat opposite him. The actor stared at him as if he’d never seen him before. He raised a quizzical eyebrow. Ruddock took out the letter he’d received and waved it in front of him.

‘You sent for me, Mr Howlett.’

‘Ah, yes, I believe I did.’

‘You said that you’d remembered that name at last.’

‘Indeed, I did.’

‘Did you know the man?’

Howlett chortled. ‘That was beyond even my fabled capacities.’

‘Then how did you recall his name?’

‘Are you a theatregoer, Mr Ruddock?’

‘I don’t have the time or the money for entertainment of any kind.’

‘That’s a pity. It would enrich your mind.’

‘Feeding my family comes first,’ said Ruddock, ‘and it always will. Now, who is this man? I’m desperate to find out.’