‘I found her hiding place, you know,’ said Atalanta. ‘After the engagement, she began to show the signs. Her “tell”, Freddie calls it. Something the card players like to say. I knew she was about to run and kept a careful eye, and when she made her break, I followed her there.’

‘I see. Did you confront her?’

‘To what end? No, I told our father. But by the time he …’ Her face darkened. ‘Well, by the time he believed me and we went there, Dillie was gone.’

‘You went there with your father this morning, then?’

‘Why? How do you know this?’

‘It is too bad your father did not listen to you earlier,’ said Holmes.

Atalanta shrugged, but I could sense the damaged girl under her practised coolness.

‘Where do you think she is now?’ asked Holmes.

‘I told you. I simply don’t care. My father has disowned her—’

At that moment Richard Wyndham strode into the room. It was as though there was a tide of invisible energy emanating from him, like the wake of a fast-moving ship, and his daughter backed away as if frightened of its impact.

‘Atalanta, leave us!’ he commanded, and the older daughter vanished. ‘What do you want?’ he asked Holmes.

‘I am concerned about your daughter, Odelia.’

Wyndham gave Holmes a peculiar, threatening look.

Holmes waited.

‘Yes, yes. She ran off. Again. Atalanta showed me where she had been hiding. But the damned little hussy has left there and … by God, if I get hold of her, she—’ His breath caught, and he looked up. ‘But what is this to you? And what brought you here?’

‘I will get to that. Who cleaned out her rooms there?’ asked Holmes, meeting the man’s fury with his own cold anger.

‘I and my man did. How do you know they were cleaned out? We only did so a couple of hours ago. How did you get in?’

Holmes did not answer the question. ‘May I see her things?’

‘No.’

‘Professor Wyndham, your daughter may be in danger.’

‘Of her own making, then. If Odelia returns here, she will find no refuge. Duplicitous little wench! Philip!’ A footman scurried in. ‘You have sent my request?’ barked Wyndham.

‘Yes, sir. Ten minutes ago, now, sir. With all haste.’

Wyndham waved the young man away. He took a deep breath, then turned back to us. ‘Sit down. Over there.’ He pointed to a sofa, facing away from the door. It was an order, not an invitation.

Perhaps it would calm him, I thought, and took a seat as directed. Holmes remained standing. His eyes bored into our host’s.

‘You seem to be more angry than concerned about your daughter’s disappearance, Mr Wyndham.’

‘Oh, please. The sun rises, the sun sets.’

‘You are not worried, then?’

‘No.’

‘What about her fiancé, the young Lord Eden-Summers?’

‘I doubt he knows where she is, either.’

‘You’ve been in touch, then?’