‘I remember.’ She looked at him, hunched over the computer screen, one knee pumping away. She wanted to say something about the hug … warn him off somehow … but she knew she’d missed her chance.

Bringing the mugs back through from the kitchen, she asked if he’d found anything.

‘Tourist sites,’ he said. He took the mug from her with a nod of thanks.

‘Why London?’ she asked.

‘What do you mean?’ His eyes were still on the screen.

‘I mean, why not somewhere closer to home?’

‘Could be Quizmaster lives in London. We don’t know, do we?’

‘No.’

‘And who’s to say Flip Balfour was the only one playing the game? Something like this, my bet is there’s a website somewhere – or was. Anyone wanting to join in could go there. They wouldn’t all come from Scotland.’

She nodded. ‘I’m just wondering … was Flip bright enough to solve this clue?’

‘Obviously, or she wouldn’t have gone on to the next level.’

‘But maybe this is a new game,’ she said. He turned his head to look at her. ‘Maybe it’s just for us.’

‘If we ever meet the bastard, I’ll be sure to ask him.’

A further half-hour later, Grant was working his way through a list of London restaurants. ‘You wouldn’t believe how many Victoria Roads and Victoria Streets there are in this bloody place, and half of them have restaurants on them.’

He leaned back, straightening his spine. The energy seemed to have leached out of him.

‘And that’s before we start looking at pubs.’ Siobhan ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it back tight from her forehead. ‘It’s too …’

‘What?’

‘The first bit of the clue was clever. But this … this is just looking at lists. Does he expect us to go to London, visit every chip shop and café in the hope of finding Queen Victoria’s bust?’

‘He can whistle if he does.’ Grant’s chuckle was empty of humour.

Siobhan looked at the book of card games. She’d spent a couple of hours flicking through it, and all the time looking for the wrong thing in the wrong place. She’d only just got to the library in time. Five minutes till closing. Left her car on Victoria Street and prayed she didn’t get a ticket …

‘Victoria Street?’ she said out loud.

‘Take your pick, there are dozens of the buggers.’

‘And some of them are right here,’ she told him.

He looked up. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘they are.’

He went down to his car, brought back an Ordnance Survey atlas of East-Central Scotland, opened it at the index and ran his finger down the list.

‘Victoria Gardens … there’s a Victoria Hospital in Kirkcaldy … Victoria Street and Victoria Terrace in Edinburgh.’ He looked at her. ‘What do you think?’

‘I think there are a couple of restaurants in Victoria Street.’

‘Any statues?’

‘Not on the outside.’