Lockhart didn’t hear him. Was it possible that Vivian Stranders’s father had played at his wedding? It would be the most hateful of coincidences if Stranders had found out about the ceremony from his father, and was now relaying details of it to Pugh, so that he and Strasser might forge some letters from Anna. And if this was the case, then Anna was surely dead. Butcher, the bastard, hadn’t been lying.

“John? John! You’ve gone white!”

Worstead had grabbed him by the forearm and was now shaking it, trying to break him out of his reverie.

“What is it, John?”

Lockhart looked up at Worstead. His stomach had knotted itself so tightly he felt he was about to vomit.

“Christ, man, what’s the matter?”

Lockhart drained his wineglass, and pointed at it, indicating to Worstead that it needed refilling. He took a long deep breath through his nose—an attempt to stop himself feeling nauseous that partly succeeded. Worstead poured him another glass, half the contents of which Lockhart immediately drained.

“I think,” Lockhart began, “you may well be right.”

“Sorry?”

“I think you’re right about Pugh. And if you are, then that means Anna is dead.”

He couldn’t believe that he was saying those words—four syllables that contained so much pain, more pain than the deaths of his mother, father and Richard combined. That seemed unfair to them, but it was just the way he felt.

“Why do you think I’m right?” asked Worstead.

Lockhart told him.

“But that’s…that’s preposterous,” said Worstead.

Lockhart smiled, but only with his mouth.

“You were asking me to believe a similarly large coincidence only a few minutes ago.”

“I know, but, I mean…are you sure? Are you sure that the organist might not have been called Saunders?”

“Sure enough to give myself one hell of a fright.”

The waitress came over. Although Lockhart didn’t feel like eating, he knew that he should. They both ordered the pork, and another bottle of wine. He was going to get drunk, wash away some of the pain. Fine, it was probably escapism—a temporary suicide—but then he felt he deserved it.

They had been pleased with what she had discovered, very pleased, but now they wanted her to push him a little harder. She told them that he was very guarded, but they said that if anybody was going to find out more, it was her. They had someone else who was helping, but he couldn’t get as near to Strasser as she could. Who was that someone else? she asked. You’ll meet him soon, they said.

Use every trick you know, they had ordered her, use every method to bring him out. Leni, they had said, Leni, this is important, do not worry if he loses his temper or threatens you, for we will protect you. She curtly informed them that their protection was worthless, and anyway, she could look after herself. They had laughed at that, but her manner was indignant, and there was something about her forcefulness that they respected.