We went through to a small room crammed full of furniture. Mr. Klein was sitting in an armchair beside a roaring fire. He got to his feet, looking at us nervously.

The inspector held out his hand. “Mr. Klein. Detective Inspector Newcombe. We met the other day in connection with your robbery. And these are two acquaintances who have been helping me.”

“Good of you to come, Inspector,” Mr. Klein said. “Please, take a seat, all of you. I recognize the young lady from my shop the other day. Any news on the robbery yet?”

“Not yet, I’m afraid, but we may be closer to solving it.”

We sat, I perched on an upright chair away from the fire, leaving the two men to sit close to Mr. Klein.

“I’d be so happy if you could find out who broke into my shop,” he said. “I haven’t slept a wink since, you know. If someone had smashed a window and grabbed a few items, it would have been one thing. But letting himself into the store with no sign of a break-in and then opening my safe—well, that’s something else entirely, isn’t it? I won’t feel safe again until he’s found and arrested.”

“That’s exactly what we hope to do, Mr. Klein. And we have reason to suspect this wasn’t just a simple robbery. It may be linked to a chain of crimes, some of them murders. So in many ways you’re lucky to be alive. And I suggest you stay with your daughter until we tell you it’s safe to go home.”

“Goodness me.” Mr. Klein put a hand to his heart. “You have your suspicions then, do you, Inspector?”

“We’re hoping you can help us, Mr. Klein. We suspect there must be some kind of vendetta motive behind this, so I’m asking you to think. Has there been anyone with whom you’ve crossed swords, anyone who has written you a nasty letter? Anyone who might want to punish you in any way?”

“Because I’m Jewish, you mean?”

“Not at all. None of the other victims was a Jew.”

“Well, that’s a relief, anyway. I always told myself that was one thing I could count on in England. And as to your question—no, I can’t think of any enemies. I keep myself to myself. Don’t make trouble. Don’t get involved in town politics. Never had a nasty letter that I can remember.”

I moved toward the edge of the sofa. “Mr. Klein, do any of the following names mean anything to you?” And I began to recite them. He shook his head after each of the first few.

“Gladys Tripp. Now, that name rings a bell. Where have I heard it recently?”

“She was the telephone switchboard operator who was killed last week.”