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can squeeze more money out of us. I’ll shake the truth out of them, be assured of it. As for that print shop,’ he went on, ‘are you certain that you wouldn’t prefer me to go instead of you?’
    ‘Why, in hell’s name, should you do that?’
    ‘I’m only trying to save you the embarrassment.’
    ‘What embarrassment?’
    ‘I had the feeling that one of the prints in that window upset you.’
    ‘They all upset me,’ roared Yeomans, ‘because they’re an affront to decent people. What appals me most is that the shop is owned by a woman. It’s shameful that she should brazenly sell those prints in the knowledge that they’ll spread their poison far and wide. It’s iniquitous.’
    ‘What do we know of Mrs Mandrake?’
    ‘I know all I need to know. She’s no better than a whoremonger.’
    ‘I’d be interested to meet her.’
    ‘Leave that task to me,’ said Yeomans. ‘I have a way with women.’
    ‘Are you going to arrest her or simply put the fear of God into her?’
    ‘I’m going to make her tell me everything there is to tell about Paige. She’s been his accomplice all this while. Mrs Mandrake should be able to give me vital intelligence.’
    They chatted for a few minutes then broke off as Ruddock arrived with a full tankard of ale in each hand. As he set them down on the table, he got no thanks.
    ‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said. ‘How do we beat off our rivals?’
    ‘What are you mumbling about?’ asked Hale.
    ‘Peter and Paul Skillen have caught wind of this murder. What’s to stop them solving the crime before we do?’
    ‘We have an army of informers who usually catch the first whiff of any serious crime,’ said Yeomans. ‘That means we’ll have access to evidence that the Skillen brothers will never even see.’
    ‘Yet they always seem to have success,’ argued Ruddock. ‘How do they manage that?’
    ‘It’s Peter Skillen’s doing,’ said Hale, glumly. ‘He has the most amazing luck.’ A thought struck him. ‘Or maybe it’s Paul Skillen who’s blessed with good fortune. After all, he was lucky enough to ensnare that beautiful actress whose name was always in the newspapers. Only a man with the luck of the devil could manage to do that. Then again,’ he added, ‘Paul rarely had much success at the card table so maybe it was Peter Skillen, after all, who brings in the good luck.’
    ‘It’s not a question of luck,’ growled Yeomans. ‘Solving crimes is a question of skill and experience and we have more of boththan the Skillens. That’s why we are charged with solving this murder. They are mere interlopers. Forget about them, Ruddock. In a case like this, we know how to identify the right people and ask the right questions. Peter and Paul Skillen, meanwhile, will be running around in circles. When we’ve put the killer behind bars, they’ll still be groping in the dark.’
     
    It was a paradox. Jem Huckvale had prayed that he’d one day be able to spend time alone with Meg Rooke yet, now that it had actually happened, he was tongue-tied and unable to enjoy her company. She, by contrast, showed no embarrassment at all, treating him like any other guest and doing her best to put him at his ease. The most agonising moment for Huckvale was when she lifted the bed sheets to peer under the bed in order to find if the chamber pot had been used. Seeing that it was empty, she gave him a smile and left the room. Huckvale’s cheeks were on fire. Proximity to someone he cared for had strict limits for him. Much as he adored the servant, he was not prepared to share the secrets of his bodily functions with her. He resolved instead to pay an occasional visit to the privy in the yard, no matter how painful the journey there and back. The suffering involved would pale beside what he’d already endured in terms of shame.
    When there was a knock on the door, he braced himself against Meg’s return but, in fact, it was Charlotte who sailed into the room.
    ‘How are you,