‘Well, you won’t get it now, Jem,’ said Paul, walking into the room. ‘Mr Aveley has just arrived for some fencing lessons. I sent him upstairs.’

Huckvale yawned. ‘Then I’d better go.’

Peter and Paul were sorry for the extra pressures put on him. But they felt that solving a murder was more important than improving someone’s skill with a weapon. It also brought in a lot more money and kudos.

‘How is Hannah?’ asked Charlotte.

‘She’s fine,’ replied Paul. ‘It’s Dorothea who is the problem. The poor girl is very fragile. Hannah is handling her with great care. She’s like a surrogate mother.’

‘What about Dorothea’s real mother?’

‘Oh, she and her husband live in the wilds of Lincolnshire. While they did relent in the end, they didn’t approve of their daughter’s wish to enter such a volatile profession. They felt that she’d be exposing herself to danger. If they knew about her friendship with this fellow, Orsino Price, they’d be horrified.’

‘But that friendship has been abruptly terminated.’

‘I hope that her parents never find out how,’ said Paul. ‘However, let’s put Dorothea aside. We have work calling us. Where should we start, Peter?’

‘I’d like to confront Sir Roger’s son again.’

‘Do you know where he’s staying in London?’

‘No, I don’t.’

‘Then let me suggest you try the Clarendon Hotel first. His father always stayed there. It’s more than probable that Edmund Mellanby will also choose it as his base in the capital.’

‘Thank you, Paul. Where will you start?’

‘I’d like to meet this friend of Captain Golightly’s.’

‘Dr Quine?’

‘Yes, what he discovered has proved just how mercenary the assassin is. The doctor has given us evidence that we’d never obtain elsewhere.’

‘When shall I see you again, Peter?’ asked Charlotte.

‘We’ll meet here around midday,’ replied her husband.

‘I agree,’ said Paul. ‘We need to share what we’ve found out.’

‘Let’s just hope that we have something worth sharing.’

Over a late breakfast at the house, Dorothea was unusually silent. When she’d first confessed to Hannah that she’d formed an attachment with a man, the words had gushed out of her like a waterfall. She then entered a more reflective phase, only mentioning Orsino Price’s name when she recalled a memory she hadn’t mentioned. The previous evening, she’d told Hannah something about her supposedly devoted admirer that made the latter adjust her opinion of him. Price had clearly been in the grip of a mania. He’d use any means and exploit anyone in order to achieve his goal. Dorothea might believe that she was the goddess he portrayed her as in his letters, but Hannah was convinced that she was simply his latest victim.

‘What would you like to do today?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know, Miss Granville.’