‘Really?’ said Jack, twisting the blade of the katana ever so slightly and making the artist wince. ‘Then why did you run?’

Rowland glared defiantly back at him. But there was a glint of fear too. ‘You won’t get another word from me!’

Jack applied the lightest of pressures to his katana. Its razor-sharp point pierced the artist’s skin like a peach, drawing a bead of blood. Rowland yelped in shock and pain.

‘Stop! Stop!’ he begged, holding up his trembling hands. ‘I confess, I confess … it was me who killed Master Holme.’

A collective gasp of astonishment ran round the audience.

Rowland broke down into sobs. ‘I-I-I poisoned him … with arsenic … after he discovered I was stealing his money and commissions … but I only did it because he wouldn’t acknowledge my skill as an artist!’ Rowland looked up, furious indignation in his eyes. ‘Half those portraits were my doing!’

Jack stared at the quivering man, astounded at this unexpected confession. ‘That isn’t what I wanted to know … I was asking who commissioned this locket?’

Rowland stopped sobbing and blinked. ‘Why, I-I-I don’t know.’

‘Surely you were there when this portrait was painted?’

Rowland peered at the picture and nodded vaguely. ‘Yes … I do remember the girl coming in for her portrait. Fine cheekbones … angelic hair … and eyes as deep blue as the ocean –’

‘Was she with anyone?’ pressed Jack, his hopes rising.

‘I believe there was an old woman,’ said Rowland, furrowing his brow, ‘her chaperone, but I don’t recall anyone else.’

‘That must have been Mrs Winters,’ said Jack. Still holding the katana to Rowland’s throat, he asked, ‘Don’t you have any idea who paid for the locket? The girl in the portrait is my sister – and she’s missing!’

Seeing his blood drip from the blade, Rowland began babbling, ‘My master was secretive – didn’t want me stealing his most valued clients – so I rarely met them. Whoever it was, he must have been a gentleman of some wealth to afford such a fine piece!’ Then Rowland scowled. ‘Although … I’m as sure as I can be that he didn’t ever pay. I’d remember a commission worth eight sovereigns! So, truly, I never met the man. Any knowledge of who ordered the locket went with Holme to his grave!’

Upon hearing this disheartening news, Jack let his sword drop. The trail offered by the locket was now as dead as the man who painted it!

‘Don’t despair, Jack,’ said Akiko, joining him on stage. ‘We’ll find Jess another way.’

‘But how?’ replied Jack. ‘The locket’s a dead end.’

‘If a box has no hinges, it may still contain gold,’ called Yori sagely from the pit. ‘Don’t give up so easily. Remember, Sensei Yamada’s koan of the Daruma Doll: seven times down, eight times up.’