This was the first he had learned of it.

‘No,’ he replied. ‘Money is rarely discussed with me, for as you know I have none.’

Nor was he likely to for some time. What he earned now as Simpson’s assistant would have to go towards repaying the debts he had incurred on his travels. Quinton had asked to borrow some from him the other day, a request he had greeted with wry amusement. It was clear the man was new to the place and didn’t know him very well.

‘What of it?’ Raven asked.

‘Just rumours. It’s probably nothing.’

‘Perhaps Jarvis has been forgetting to check the professor’s pockets.’

Sarah’s expression indicated she thought he was being facetious. He wasn’t, entirely.

‘You are right that the professor cares little about his wealth,’ Raven said, ‘and it is my contention that it makes him somewhat careless about money. He can be careless with other things too; forgetting appointments and visits.’

‘He never forgets anything that is interesting or important. Imaginary megrims are another matter.’

‘He’s not infallible, Sarah,’ Raven said, thinking that this was worth repeating.

‘None of us are.’

They had finally reached Mr Hardie’s shop.

‘Thank goodness,’ Sarah said as she pushed open the door. ‘I’m freezing.’

They entered the premises, Sarah breathing into her cupped hands to warm them. The shop was clean, tidy and smelled of wood shavings. A small man stood behind the counter, a large leather apron covering his clothes.

‘Good morning,’ he greeted them. ‘How may I be of assistance?’

‘I am Dr Raven, assistant to Dr James Young Simpson.’

Mr Hardie’s smile disappeared as soon as Simpson’s name was mentioned.

‘I have already provided Dr Simpson with the letter that he requested,’ he said. ‘I had nothing to do with the rumours regarding the late Mrs Johnstone. I never stated, and could not state, that she died of bleeding. I am a simple tradesman, why would I say such a thing?’

Raven opened his mouth to reassure the man that they had not come to accuse him of anything, but Mr Hardie was not done.

‘I heard that she had died of inflammation after some operation, and I casually remarked to a medical gentleman who came into my shop that she must have been very ill, as there was some staining of blood on the surface of the mattress. I thought it to have been the result of bleeding from the arm. This medical gentleman and another afterwards came and asked me about the size of the stain on the mattress, and I answered them. I do not consider myself responsible for what occurred after that.’

Raven wondered how many visits the man had been subject to regarding this mattress. It did seem odd that the medical gentlemen should take such a keen interest.