“That’s what he told me, a wild boar. Here’s something for your trouble, he said. He gave me two gold coins. Said wild boar fetched a good price in London. I felt sick when it hit me that I was carrying a man. I put Dell’s blood money in the sack, put the poor fellow on the train, praying for his eternal rest, and I set off on the tramp. God guided me to Liverpool.”

I understood why he would make a run for it. An Irish labourer who had drunk and gambled his wages would make the perfect dupe.

“Did Eliot Dell drive the van?”

“No. He sat in the back with me. It was dark. He didn’t want me to know too soon what or who was in that sack.”

“Did you see who was driving?”

“Probably some poor sod as hard up as me.” He looked towards the cart, where the coal merchant had set off along the street.

“Where did the van set off from?”

“By a barn on the farm where I’d done the work.”

So Eliot Dell and whoever was with him had managed to get Harry Aspinall into the back of a car. He must have parked behind the shop, out of sight.

“Would you tell your story to the police?”

“You know where I’d end up. I’m not a violent man. Here they call me Giant Jack. At home I was the gentle giant.”

“Take your likeness, Kevin. Good luck to you. Live well.”

He put the photograph in his pocket. “What’s your name?”

“Kate.”

*   *   *

The taxi driver was relieved to see me. He was standing by his car, looking about. “I thought you’d done a runner.”

“That’s not likely.”

“Why not? You’ve one arm but two legs.”

“Let’s make one more stop, before you take me back to the station. I want to go to the French Consulate.”

I would send a secure message to Bernard Campaner. He should have the full story, but with nothing to incriminate Kevin O’Donnell.

The driver had opened his window. As he drove along a broad street towards the docks, I could smell the River Mersey. Second thoughts floated in on the breeze.

I am so guided by my own official secrets act that when we arrived at the consulate, I changed my mind. “We’ll go straight to the station.”

If Campaner did not have enough information by now, he never would.

*   *   *

Sykes was standing under the station clock, waiting for me. We had five minutes before the train left.

“Where is everyone?”

He grinned. “On the platform.”

“That’s a relief.”

We walked towards the barrier.

“You should’ve seen the joy on the bairns’ faces when the Arkwrights appeared. They looked half-starved. We’d to find them something to eat.”

Sykes showed our tickets and we hurried to the platform. “What about O’Donnell, how did you get on?”