Well, thought Lenox, what will it be: a plea for help or a warning to stay out of the case? The two men stood facing each other.

“Mr. Lenox,” said Exeter with a supercilious smile.

Here to crow, then, thought Lenox. “How do you do, Inspector? Good evening.”

“I expect you’ve been following the murders? The Fleet Street murders?”

“I have, certainly, with keen interest. I hope their solution progresses well?”

“In fact it does, Mr. Lenox. In fact it does. We have apprehended the criminal responsible.”

Lenox was shocked. “What? Poole?”

Exeter frowned. “Poole? How did you-never mind-no, it’s a young cockney chap, Hiram Smalls. He’s a short, strong fellow.”

“Oh?” he said. “I’m delighted to hear it. How, pray tell, did he move between the two houses so rapidly? He flew, I take it?”

The smile returned to Exeter’s face. “We expect Smalls to give us his compatriot, after a few solitary days with the prospect of the gallows in mind.”

“Indeed,” said Lenox and nodded. “How did you find him?”

“Eyewitness. Always begin, Mr. Lenox-and I say this with the benefit of many professional years of hindsight-always begin with a canvass of the area. Now, that’s something an amateur might find difficult, comparatively, given the resources in manpower and time of the Yard.”

Damn the man’s insolence, thought Lenox. “Indeed,” was all he said.

“Well, I thought I ought to let you know.”

“I thank you.”

“I know you’ve taken an interest… an amateur interest in several of our cases and even helped us once or twice, but I wanted to tell you that this one is solved. No need for your heroics, sir!”

“I’m very happy for you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lenox, most gracious. Well-and good day.”