‘Yes, the police now think it was some hired assassin. I will not tell the police about you.’

The dressing-room door opened and a pretty chorus girl came in. ‘Nearly time for the curtain call, darling.’ She perched on Roger’s knee and gave him a hearty kiss. Roger threw a sheepish look at Rose.

‘Who’re they?’ asked the chorus girl.

‘Nobody, really,’ said Roger.

Rose and Daisy left.

‘So much for undying love,’ said Rose. ‘He seems to have found someone new pretty quickly.’

‘It’s been months since the murder,’ said the ever-pragmatic Daisy. ‘Life goes on.’

Rose brooded on Harry on the journey back. She had never thought until that moment that Harry might fall in love and get married. The idea depressed her.

Daisy broke into her thoughts. ‘Going to tell the captain about Roger?’

‘No.’

‘He might have done it.’

‘He hasn’t enough money to pay an assassin. Don’t tell Becket anything.’

‘Cross my heart and hope to die.’

Harry had been visiting a house a few doors away from the earl’s town house to report that he had managed to quash a scandal.

As he left, he suddenly stopped on the front stairs. Two men were looking up at the earl’s house. When they saw Harry, they moved away.

Berrow and Banks, thought Harry. Why are they spying on Rose? I don’t like this at all.

They were walking away quickly, but he caught up with them. ‘Stop!’ he shouted. ‘What were you doing watching Hadshire’s house?’

Cyril stared at him insolently. ‘We stopped to have a cigar.’

‘You were not smoking.’

‘See here,’ said Berrow, shoving his fat and florid face at Harry, ‘you’re a cheeky upstart. You’ve betrayed your class. How dare you question me!’

‘I’m warning you,’ said Harry, ‘if I catch you here again, I’ll beat the living daylights out of you, and if either of you had anything to do with the murder of Dolly Tremaine, I’ll find out.’

They backed away from him, turned, and walked rapidly out of the square.

‘Needs to be taught a lesson,’ growled Berrow. ‘Have you seen that motor of his? He’s making a fortune out of his grubby business. I’d like to punish him. Are you sure Lady Rose really fancies you? I mean, she got engaged to Petrey.’

‘And we all know what Petrey is. I tell you, Lady Rose was all over me. Think of her fortune. Think of getting the Ice Queen into bed. But I’ve got to get rid of Petrey and I’ve thought of a way.’

Sir Peter Petrey was leaving The Club two days later. London was in the grip of a particularly nasty thick yellow fog. It was one of those lung-searing fogs of winter blanketing London, blotting out landmarks. He knew if he could even get a hansom, it would take him ages to get home.

It was late afternoon and he realized he would need to walk home if he was to manage to change into his evening clothes and escort Rose to a dinner party.