‘Oh, I do, I do.’ He took a deep breath.

‘Is this going to take time, Spoder?’

‘There’s a lot to tell, because Jeksid had a reason for contacting me.’ His voice was low. ‘He has found out more about me than I should like him to know. The fact is that I have never been completely honest with you about the life I lead. What I am doing now and the life I led in the past. I am not what you think, sir.’

‘Is he blackmailing you?’

‘He’s using his knowledge to put pressure on me.’

‘Are you now telling me that you were never a detective in the police?’

‘No, sir. That is a matter of complete truth.’

‘Or that you are no longer connected in any way with the police on this island?’

‘Everything I have told you about my work with the police is true. I have never deliberately lied to you. I have simply omitted to tell you certain facts about myself.’

‘We have an entirely professional relationship, Spoder,’ I said. ‘I accept you for who you are. You work well with me, and I’m not bothered by what you might have got up to in the past.’

‘Well – it affects the present, too. When you know the whole truth about me, you might never be able to trust me again.’

‘We’ll see.’

‘It’s serious.’

I had never seen him looking so defensive, so troubled. I realized he had manoeuvred himself into a mental position where he saw no alternative but to tell me his story, and that I should therefore have to listen. He was almost wringing his hands in his earnest wish to own up, or confess, or whatever it was he thought he had to do. I was not anxious to hear it: what I said to him about our work together was true. For me it had been fruitful. I intended it to continue.

I wondered if our experience in the magic museum had unexpectedly opened the doors to this new frankness. I had not seen him since that day.

I collected up our coffee things and said I would brew a fresh pot. I left Spoder on the patio and retreated into the house. It was the work of only a few moments to prepare the coffee machine and rinse out the mugs. I stood for a few moments in the kitchen while the coffee maker popped and hissed, wondering how much in fact I wanted or even needed to hear Spoder’s story.

Although I felt sceptical about Frejah Harsent’s warning of a killer seeking me, there appeared none the less to be a link between me, Spoder, Frejah, Jeksid and Frejah’s dead husband. I could not ignore that – I should listen to what he said.