Jürgen was keen on role-playing games, and spent many hours surfing the Internet. His parents think it possible that their student son became involved in some game which had tragic consequences.

Siobhan held up the clipping. ‘Is this all there is?’

He nodded. ‘Just the one story.’

‘Where did you get it?’

‘From someone I know.’ He held out his hand. ‘He’d like it back.’

‘Why?’

‘Because he’s writing a book about the perils of the e-universe. Incidentally, he’d like to interview you some time, too.’

‘Maybe later.’ Siobhan folded the clipping but made no attempt to hand it back. ‘I need to keep this, Gandalf. Your friend can have it when I’m finished with it.’

Gandalf looked disappointed in her, as though she’d failed to keep her side of some bargain.

‘I promise he can have it back when I’m finished.’

‘Couldn’t we just photocopy it?’

Siobhan sighed. An hour from now, she hoped she’d be in that bathtub, maybe with a gin and tonic replacing the wine. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘Come back to the station and …’

‘They’ll have a copier here.’ He was pointing towards the corner where the proprietor sat.

‘Okay, you win.’

Gandalf brightened at this, as though those three little words were the sweetest ones he knew.

Back at the station, having left Gandalf at Out of the Nomad’s Tent, Siobhan found Grant Hood scrunching another sheet of paper into a ball and failing to hit the waste-paper bin with it.

‘What’s up?’ she asked.

‘I got wondering about anagrams.’

‘And?’

‘Well, if the town of Banchory didn’t have that “h”, it would be an anagram of “a corny b”.’

Siobhan burst out laughing, slapping her hand to her mouth when she saw Grant’s look.

‘No,’ he said, ‘go ahead and laugh.’

‘God, I’m sorry, Grant. I think I’m nearing a state of mild hysteria.’

‘Should we try e-mailing Quizmaster, tell him we’re stuck?’

‘Maybe nearer the deadline.’ Looking over his shoulder at the remaining sheet of paper, Siobhan saw that he was working on anagrams for ‘mason’s dream’.

‘Call it a day?’ he suggested.

‘Maybe.’

He caught her tone of voice. ‘You’ve got something?’

‘Gandalf,’ she said, handing over the news story. She watched him read, noticing that his lips moved slightly. She wondered if he’d always done it …

‘Interesting,’ he said at last. ‘Do we follow it up?’

‘I think we have to, don’t you?’

He shook his head. ‘Hand it over to the inquiry. We’ve got our work cut out with this bloody clue.’

‘Hand it over … ?’ She was aghast. ‘This is ours, Grant. What if it turns out to be vital?’

‘Christ, Siobhan, listen to yourself. It’s an inquiry, lots of people all chipping in. It doesn’t belong to us. You can’t be selfish with something like this.’