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with an address in Saint Leonard’s Place, just where Mrs Wenlock said they’d be and just where any self-respecting firm of accountants would indeed locate themselves. So, Somerled ... a visit for you and Thompson to undertake.’
    â€˜Yes, sir,’ Yellich again replied promptly.
    â€˜I can report,’ Hennessey advised, ‘that the forensic science laboratory came back with a negative result in respect of the postcards; there were no latents at all and the postage stamps were of the modern self-adhesive type so no DNA could be obtained from any saliva, as would be the case if the stamps had been licked. The postcards themselves unfortunately did not have a barcode on the reverse, which might otherwise have helped us pin down a retail outlet. Some postcards do ... but these did not, so the sender was either lucky or he or she knew what they were doing when they selected the cards.’ Hennessey paused. ‘Right ... so we all know what we are doing?’
    â€˜Yes, skipper,’ Somerled Yellich replied. ‘Understood.’
    â€˜Yes, boss,’ Webster echoed. ‘Clear as daylight.’
    â€˜Good, and also remember it is essential that you let me or anyone else in the team know if you deviate from your assigned visits.’ Hennessey leaned forward. ‘I must know – we must know – where each other is at all times.’
    â€˜Understood.’ Reginald Webster replied for the whole team. ‘That’s also as clear as daylight.’
    â€˜James Wenlock.’ The man’s face initially, briefly, beamed with pleasure and warmth then very quickly turned into a scowl. ‘Yes ... yes, he was employed here, he was one of the team ...’ Clarence Bellingham had revealed himself to be a portly man when he’d received Somerled Yellich and Thompson Ventnor in his office. He had a full, round face and, Yellich thought, for an accountant, was somewhat flamboyantly dressed in a plum-coloured suit, a blue shirt and a loud yellow bow tie. His office walls were lined with leather-bound books, save for the fourth wall in which the door was set and which was reserved for the display of prints of famous paintings. Bellingham, Yellich noted as he recognized Vermeer’s, Bruegel’s, Frabritius’s and de Hooch’s work, clearly favoured the Dutch and Flemish schools. The man himself sat behind a heavy-looking, highly polished wooden desk. Ventnor and Yellich sat in leather armchairs in front of him. The carpet was deep-piled and dark brown in colour. The room smelled richly of furniture polish and the view from the widow overlooked St Leonard’s Place and the theatre. ‘Yes, James, or “Jimmy”, but we at Russell Square frown on nicknames really. So, James Wenlock was with us for about ... how long? About ... yes, about fifteen years, I believe, and then he vanished. It was all very odd. A real mystery. He was a certified accountant, a lower status than a chartered accountant like me,’ Bellingham added, a little smugly in Yellich’s view. ‘I am a chartered accountant as are, of course, all the partners in Russell Square. The salaried staff are certified accountants but they do sterling work, really they are the backbone of our service.’
    â€˜I see.’ Somerled Yellich sat forward. ‘Would you say, Mr Bellingham, that so far as you can recall, James Wenlock was happy and content whilst he was employed at Russell Square?’
    â€˜I would say so,’ Bellingham replied cautiously. ‘He wasn’t a management problem in any way, which is often the sign of a malcontent in employment. He was with us for quite a number of years, as I said. He qualified on the job rather than by attending university and obtaining his charter. All certified accountants do that, you see. They qualify by taking a series of professional body exams whilst working.’
    â€˜He came up through tools, as it were?’ Yellich