It might have been due to the pallor of the day, but as they trudged along Inverleith Row he thought that Sarah was lacking colour about her face. Raven was loath to enquire as to how she was feeling, because she clearly did not wish to confide in him regarding her condition, and thus any enquiry, no matter how sincere in its intentions, was likely to be met with hostility.

Their destination was Trinity Grove, according to the relevant page of the newspaper which Sarah had rescued from the basket of kindling by the fire. The house they sought was a handsome one that would have enjoyed an uninterrupted view all the way across the Forth had the day been clear. From a distance, it offered no suggestion of the suffering that must have been endured within, but as they drew nearer, an unkempt garden was the first sign that all was not as it should be.

‘It looks disappointingly empty,’ Raven remarked.

‘It does,’ Sarah agreed. ‘I fear there will not be anyone with whom to leave a card.’

Raven was unsure whether this was intended as a slight, which usually meant that it was.

‘We should knock anyway, for what it is worth,’ she added. ‘Perhaps we could enquire at the neighbouring houses. Surely they will have visited the family during a time of so many bereavements?’

Raven lifted the heavy brass door knocker and beat it against the plate. He could hear the reverberation inside, and imagined it echoing through the empty house, unheard. However, moments later he heard footsteps approaching from around the side of the building.

The man who appeared did not seem dressed for the weather, accoutred only in frayed trousers and a filthy shirt. Raven observed beads of sweat upon his forehead and recognised that he had been toiling, hence the lack of a coat.

‘You are too early,’ he said. ‘The sale of furniture and other goods is not until next Saturday.’

‘Are you the gardener?’ Raven asked.

‘I am today,’ he replied. ‘I am attempting to tidy things up a bit before winter falls. And before the sale, which as I say, is next week.’

‘We are not here for the sale,’ Raven stated. ‘I am Dr Will Raven, and this is Mrs Sarah Banks. We are investigating the spread of what we believe to be a dangerous new disease. Having learned of the unfortunate events that occurred here recently, we wish to ascertain whether there may be a connection. Are you a relative of the Eddlestone family?’

The man grimaced and let out a weary sigh.

‘My name is Iain McKinnon, and I’m afraid you will find nothing new here. Not unless this disease you seek is what we already call heartbreak and grief.’

‘You knew the family well?’ Sarah asked.

‘My sister Julia died here. Her husband Stuart was my closest friend.’

Iain pointed across the street to the house diagonally opposite.