He smiles. ‘Always the sparkles with you, isn’t it? No. The most valuable commodity in London – in the country – is information.’ He stubs out his cigarette and leans across the desk.

‘I don’t know how to steal information. I do hats, blouses, gloves, that sort of thing.’

‘But you want to be so much more than a petty thief, don’t you? You want to make something of yourself, enjoy the finer things in life. Champagne and diamonds, that’s what you want. I knew it the moment I saw you. And for that sort of life, you need to be lifting more than a few gloves with Annie Richmond. You have to work for it, if you truly want it.’

She rubs the finger he twisted. It aches. He could have hurt her. Really hurt her. He could have brought her down to this office and beaten her black and blue for thieving his watch. He might do that still.

‘How do I lift information? I don’t know what I’m looking for.’

‘You know more than you think. You’re observant. The best thieves are. You act on intuition. You knew I’d have something in the rooms upstairs, something even better than a Cartier watch, something portable, light, that you could slip into a pocket. I don’t begrudge it. I knew I’d catch up with you eventually and take it back. I only wish I hadn’t had to deal with Calladine – I find the man so odious. What I want to know is, how did you know I would have such a thing? You might have taken the teaspoons, as you suggested.’

She shrugs. ‘I don’t know. You looked like old money, the sort who might have an heirloom – a Ming vase, a Renoir, that sort of stuff – knocking around his flat.’

‘What does a girl from the Borough know about Renoir?’

‘Solly. Solomon Palmer. I work at his jeweller’s shop on the High Street. He brought me up like a daughter when Ma died. And when I was small, we would go and look around the galleries. He used to tell me about the paintings, and all the statues.’

‘And you remembered it all?’

‘Most of it.’

‘Why did I look like old money? You said you knew that I was old money. You’re right, of course, but I want to know how you knew.’

‘Your ring, for a start.’

He lifts his hand to inspect the ring on his smallest finger.

‘You thought I was only looking at the wristwatch. I saw the ring as well. The gold is old – last century at least – so your family is old. The sort that has paintings.’ She frowns. ‘And then there’s how you speak, and how you stand and order people around. And…’ She hesitates.

‘And what?’

‘You smell of it.’

‘I smell of what?’ He laughs. ‘What?’