He started to walk briskly and Harry followed him. The youth went as far as the seedier end of Westminster and turned in at a doorway and disappeared.

Harry went up, lit a match and studied the names beside the bell-pulls.

Jonathan Wilks lived on the top floor. Goodness, thought Harry, he even used his own name.

He took out a set of lock picks and got to work on the outside door until he was able to enter.

He walked silently up the stairs to the top. The name ‘Wilks’ was there, pencilled on the peeling wall beside the door.

Harry knocked. ‘Who is it?’ he heard him call.

Taking a gamble, Harry shouted, ‘Banks!’

The door swung open. Harry shoved Jonathan backwards into his flat. The young man stumbled and fell on the floor. Harry pulled him up by the lapels and thrust him into an armchair.

‘Now,’ he said, ‘before I ruin that pretty face of yours for life, you will tell me who paid you to entrap Sir Peter Petrey.’

‘I don’t know what you are talking about.’

Harry jerked him out of the chair and drew back his fist.

‘No!’ screamed Jonathan. ‘I’ll tell you. They said it was just a prank. I was to pretend to bump into him. Then we arranged to go to Oxford, so they said they would book a hotel and gave me the name. They also gave me a leather mask. They said I was to put it on and say in a loud voice something about having the mask on and then they would do the rest.’

‘And just who are “they”?’

Jonathan hung his head. ‘Lord Berrow and Cyril Banks,’ he whispered. Then he began to cry, saying between his sobs, ‘Don’t hurt me.’

‘You gave me what I wanted. Now, a word of advice. You will forget this ever happened or I will come looking for you. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Y-yes.’

‘I suggest you find yourself a protector and get out of that brothel or you will look like a diseased old man by the time you are thirty. Good night!’

‘Wait! Where is Peter?’

‘None of your business.’

Harry began to walk until he managed to hail a cab and directed the driver to Cyril’s address.

Once there, he paid off the cab and waited until the driver had driven off. Then he took out his lock picks and unlocked the front door.

He made his way silently up the thickly carpeted stairs, opening one door after another until he found Cyril’s bedroom. He lit the gas and stood and looked down at the sleeping Cyril. He had a sudden impulse to drive his fist into Cyril’s face but restrained himself. He looked around the room. There was a laudanum bottle on the bedside table with a spoon beside it. Cyril lay in a drugged sleep.

Harry was sure Cyril would have hidden any negative close to him. There was a safe in the corner, an old one which opened with a key rather than a combination. On a console table lay a bunch of keys. Harry picked them up and tried them until he found the key that opened the safe.