Being a man who preferred as few words as possible, Emsley answered only part of the question. “In my view, only babies are innocent, sir, but new evidence casts doubt on the advisability of prosecuting Stephen Walmsley.”

This man would get on very well with Sykes. “How soon will he be released?” I asked.

“He has been released. He was met at the prison gates by representatives of the Miners’ Union.” He sighed.

I guessed there had been some fanfare, perhaps including the Temperance Band.

Benjie picked up a pencil. He tapped his blotter. “I suppose he’ll want his job back.”

“That I couldn’t say, sir.”

The relief swept through me with such power that it was unnerving. Until that moment, I hadn’t realised how much I dreaded Stephen going to trial and being unable to hold his own against a hostile prosecution barrister. It took a moment for me to catch my breath.

“Inspector, you said you have good and bad news.”

“At present we have no other viable suspects for the murder of Helen Farrar and Harry Aspinall.”

So the local CID had finally admitted that the crimes were linked, and the two murders were committed by the same perpetrator or perpetrators. That was a start.

Chapter 60

Chapter Sixty

After Stephen Walmsley’s release, silence prevailed. If Wakefield CID was still investigating the murder of Mrs. Farrar and Mr. Aspinall, they were not telling me. Scotland Yard had signed me off with a thank you and a cheque. That would satisfy a mercenary. It did not suit me.

My case was in the hall, and the taxi booked.

Mrs. Sugden voiced her objections. “This is madness. You can’t go to London with your arm in a sling.”

She had a good point, but I had a better one. “It’s that or start climbing up the curtains.”

“Take someone with you then.”

“Are you offering?”

“I am not. You won’t catch me going to London, not unless I’m summoned by the King.”

That lifted a weight from my shoulders.

“At least let me cancel The Savoy. Stay with your aunt or stay with your cousin.”

“The Savoy is very good at arranging help for residents with an arm in a sling.”

She looked so crestfallen that I had to tell her. “I’m meeting a friend there. She and I have a lot to talk about.”

Annette Kerner was more an acquaintance than a friend. If anyone could tell me what was happening at Scotland Yard, it would be she.

I checked my watch. Before catching my train, there would be time to visit Mr. Cohen, the solicitor who had so superbly submitted a defence for Stephen Walmsley.

Since being without a car I have got to know a friendly taxi driver, Stanley Wilson. He was happy to wait on Park Square, while I called on Mr. Cohen.

*   *   *