‘Father Lamb, I presume,’ said Holmes.

‘Atticus Lamb, at your service, sir. And you are—?’

‘Sherlock Holmes. This is Dr Watson. We are up from London on some business here in the town. May we steal a moment of your time from this beautiful day?’

In a few minutes we were seated in an anteroom off a transept of the church, with hot tea in hand. Even in this common area, the ancient stone walls gave off the chill of antiquity. A velvet silence surrounded us, the mild hubbub of Cambridge completely obstructed inside the building. I wondered aloud when it had been built.

‘Fifteen hundred, or thereabouts,’ said the priest.

‘Father Lamb, I have come to you about a young man of your church: Deacon Buttons,’ said Holmes.

Lamb laughed. ‘Well, he is the only young man of my church, sir. We are a small operation here. Lamb and Buttons. The source of much merriment, you can be sure.’

The names were odd. But it was the phrase ‘small operation’ which caught my attention.

‘I see,’ said Holmes. ‘You have not been long in this location.’

‘No. Six months only. This church had been abandoned and stood mostly empty for some eight years. A shame really.’

‘And your congregation? I suppose a few hovered about, awaiting a … resurrection, so to speak?’

Here the man’s face clouded slightly. He seemed to share with me the characteristic of having a face which reflected every thought, like a glassy pond with clouds floating overhead.

‘Well, a few have returned to the flock, although frankly we are having to start, more or less, from scratch.’

‘I imagine there is competition here, though mostly Anglican,’ said Holmes.

‘Well, competition is perhaps not the right word. But we do hope to find our people. Rome will only support us insofar as we gain a following. I am optimistic, however. Why do you ask?’

It was not the first time that I considered that running a church was not unlike running a business. I became aware of a pounding sound that started up from somewhere beneath us.

‘Deacon Buttons seems like a promising young man to have with you, then,’ remarked Holmes. ‘Charming fellow.’

‘He is, indeed. He is set to be ordained soon, and he already gives a stirring sermon. I am counting on him to bring more young people into the fold. Our lifeblood, so to speak. Please forgive the noise, we are having some construction work below.’

The muffled banging continued under our conversation.

‘How is it that you know young Buttons?’ asked Father Lamb. ‘And what did you wish to discuss?’

‘He came to us in London in the matter of a young lady who had gone missing. A Miss Dillie Wyndham.’

‘Came to you, sir?’

‘Mr Holmes is a consulting detective,’ I offered. ‘He has a considerable reputation in London for his work in locating missing persons and solving crimes.’