‘A couple of days at most,’ said Ackford. ‘Then Harry will get the pair of them out of their cells with those magic fingers of his. There’ll be another reward offered for his capture. You and Peter will have to nab him yet again.’

Kitty Denley was at first pleased when Peter arrived back at her house, then she saw the flecks of red on his face and the ugly wet patches on his clothing. She stared at him in disbelief.

‘What happened, Mr Skillen?’

‘A bottle of wine was smashed in your husband’s office,’ he explained. ‘Some of it went over me and a few pieces of glass hit me in the face.’

‘You need to see a doctor.’

‘I’m quite unharmed, I assure you. I just wanted to tell you what happened.’

‘Did you challenge him?’ she asked.

‘Yes, I did.’

‘What did he say?’

‘He wasn’t really in a position to say anything, Mrs Denley, because I’d knocked him to the floor.’

Kitty was astonished. ‘Did my husband attack you?’

‘No, he was cowering behind his desk. The person I’m talking about is the one hired to kill Sir Roger Mellanby. He was the man I overpowered before he could add your husband’s name to his list of victims. Don’t look so worried,’ he added as she backed away in horror. ‘Your husband survived unhurt. As for the man determined to kill him, I made sure that he was in safe custody before I came here.’

‘Wasn’t Hugh arrested as well?’

‘There was no point. He had nothing to do with the murder – though I hardly need to tell you that, do I? You only sent me there to shift any suspicion away from yourself. Unfortunately, your plan failed.’

‘What plan?’ she asked, desperately trying to regain her composure.

‘The one you devised to blame someone else for your crime.’

‘I don’t understand a word that you’re saying, Mr Skillen.’

‘Then perhaps you should look at your own words instead.’

Taking out the letter that the assassin had been carrying, he held it in front of her so that she could read her own writing. Kitty let out a cry of anguish and put her hands to her face. Peter waited until she’d got over the initial shock and slowly lowered her hands. She tried to muster some dignity.

‘That letter was not written by me,’ she claimed.

‘Your husband swore that it had been.’

‘Exactly – he knows my hand well enough to copy it.’

‘You’ve been found out, Mrs Denley. Blatant lies are no use to you any more. Your husband had good reason to despise Sir Roger, but you were the one with the real urge to have him killed.’

‘That’s not true – I loved him!’

‘Unfortunately, he didn’t return that love.’