Harry arrived, polite, attentive and as closed as a shut door. Christmas came and went. Harry gave her a splendid diamond-and-sapphire necklace and she blushed when she handed him that book.

And then, after Boxing Day, one of the maids fell ill with typhoid and part of the drive fell into the cesspool below.

A doctor was summoned to treat the maid. A nurse was hired for her. The factor was instructed to deal with the cesspool and the earl thought it safer to remove everyone back to London.

As they arrived at the town house, it began to snow, small swirling flakes that seemed to rise upwards in the lamplight.

Fires were hurriedly lit. The house was freezing. Rose went to bed that night with two stone hot-water bottles in her bed, or ‘pigs’, as they were called.

She was just drifting off to sleep, watching the flames dancing in the fireplace through half-closed lids, when suddenly she was wide awake.

At last she knew what it was that had been nagging at the back of her brain. She must tell Harry.

She was sure she now knew who had murdered Dolly.

In Yorkshire, Berrow and Cyril were feeling more like their horrible selves. They had shot every animal and bird on the estate that they could, had gone wenching in the brothels of York, and were beginning to regret having been so scared of Harry Cathcart.

It was only when the gamekeeper caught a poacher and dragged the man in to see Lord Berrow at gunpoint that Berrow began to have the germ of an idea. ‘I’ll take him to the police,’ said the gamekeeper.

Berrow eyed the poacher thoughtfully. Most poachers were people who risked prison in order to feed their families during the hard winter, but this one was an unsavoury character with one wall eye, a long nose and thin greasy hair. He dismissed the gamekeeper.

‘Name,’ barked Berrow.

‘John Finch, me lord.’

‘Prison for you, me lad. What do you think of that?’

‘Been there. Leastways get fed.’

‘What were you in prison for?’

‘Beating the wife.’

‘Nonsense, man. Most men beat their wives, as is their right.’

‘Was living ower near place called Drifton. My Ruby cheeked me, so I took a plank to her. Local copper comes rushing in. Charges me with assault and battery. Thought they’d throw it out o’ court but damned if they did. When I got out, Ruby was gone.’

‘You’ll get life this time. Second offence.’

Finch looked frightened but tried to cover it up with a pathetic attempt to swagger. ‘Well, go on. Get it over with.’ Berrow studied him for a long moment.’

‘There could be another way.’

Rose fretted. Harry had gone out of town on a case. London was buried under great drifts and there were reports that the Thames had frozen.

All she could do was wait impatiently for his return.

Ailsa Bridge lifted her skirt and extracted the flat flask she kept secured by her garter. She took a hearty swig and then began to type again. Harry had assured her that Berrow and Banks were in Yorkshire and that she would be safe from any other attempts.