‘I’m sure that it did at first. But it also gave him a weapon to use against the man who’d picked him out. He was in a position to name the killer. The first thing he’d do would be to demand more money from him.’

‘Blackmail can be a lucrative crime.’

‘That must have been where his sudden wealth was going to come from. To arrange the assassination of an important public figure would have cost a great deal of money. Price, I suspect, wanted a share of it.’

‘What amount would he have put on his silence?’

‘A very high one, I fancy,’ said Paul.

‘That would have irked the assassin.’

‘It’s more than likely that he’d have decided the only way to escape Price’s threat was to shut his mouth for ever. A knife through the heart was all that it took.’

‘Miss Glenn is going to be devastated when she learns the truth.’

‘We’ll help her through it as best we can.’

‘And meanwhile …?’

‘I’ll continue to hunt for the man behind the assassination.’

‘What about the killer himself?’

‘I’ll squeeze his name out of his paymaster,’ vowed Paul. ‘All I have to do is to find out who that paymaster is.’

‘You know my feeling. The Home Secretary is your man.’

‘I refuse to believe it. My brother, Peter, worked closely with him during the war and vouches for his character. It wasn’t Sidmouth but it may well have been another politician.’

‘Which one is it – Sir Marcus Brough or Oswald Ferriday?’

‘I hope to find out very soon, Captain Golightly.’

Though he could foresee scant hopes of success, Chevy Ruddock obeyed his orders and began his search in Covent Garden. It was as crowded and raucous as ever. Having memorised the description of Giles Clearwater, he was startled to find how many people it seemed to fit. He accosted almost a dozen men, demanding their names and getting everything from mild annoyance to snarling denial in return. In the end, he decided on a change of tactics that might save him from outright abuse. Aware of its appeal for actors and fops, Ruddock therefore adjourned to the Golden Crown, only to be met by another bevy of potential Clearwaters. Wisely, he didn’t approach them, preferring instead to look around in order to assess his options.

The place was full of men, striking a pose or engaging in arguments that allowed them to raise loud, braying voices and to gesticulate wildly. Ruddock felt completely out of his depth. He then spotted the old man seated alone in a corner and nursing a half-glass of an amber liquid. In a room swirling with people and their deafening conversations, he seemed out of place. Ruddock went across and introduced himself. Simeon Howlett listened patiently then shook his head.

‘I’m sorry, Mr Ruddock,’ he said, ‘I know of no Giles Clearwater.’