Such fortitude was easier preached than practised, for he felt the hand of caution upon him as he observed that he was approaching Lady Lawson Wynd and recognised the alley where Flint had his business premises. A tingle in his scar was telling him to take a different route, in wariness of figures who continued to loom large in his mind. He realised that it was purely a reflexive response, for he was on good terms with the money-lender for now. He had even less to fear from the man he now forced himself to think of as Alec, yet his pulse still quickened at the thought of his sneering face and his grotty knife. This was the true nature of what people called ghosts: being haunted by a presence when there was nothing physical left to fear.

In defiance of this, Raven made himself walk down that lane, but his courage faltered as he heard a creak ahead indicating that Flint’s door was opening. He pressed himself tight to the wall, heart thumping as he waited to see who would appear. He half expected to see Alec emerge, with his wrecked mouth and rodent-like features. But it was not he who came through the door, nor Gargantua or Flint himself.

Flattened against the brickwork, it took Raven a moment to recognise who he was looking at, confused by the sheer incongruity. It was like finding a face he knew in Bosch’s Garden of Earthly Delights: familiar but jarringly out of place and unexpected in this underworld realm. He watched Quinton walk out into the street and swiftly on his way. There was something furtive in his stride, as though trying to give the impression he was merely passing and had never been inside that building.

Many things slotted into place, but Raven had learned not to draw conclusions from limited evidence.

He waited for Quinton to disappear from sight then rattled at the door. It was answered by another of Flint’s henchmen, the squat one who looked like a toad.

‘I want to speak to your boss.’

‘He’s not to be disturbed just now,’ Toad replied curtly. ‘Come back another time.’

‘I’m here now. So why don’t you go and ask if he’ll indulge an interruption to discuss the correct use of chloroform?’

Toad shut the door in his face, but Raven knew he would relay his remark, and that Flint would infer its significance. He returned forthwith and showed him in.

Flint was standing next to his desk, a strongbox sitting on the floor beneath it. Raven made a point of staring at it. Flint glanced down too, perhaps checking that the lid was closed. He didn’t want Raven seeing what was inside.

There was a pistol on the desk, a far more modern piece than the one he had faced in Berlin. That Flint definitely wanted him to see.