‘I’ve been thinking the case over…’

Gently gave him a cup of tea. In the morning papers, he had been glad to see, there had been no recurrence of the ‘calling the Yard’ theme. Their space had been largely given to the exhibition and to the mysterious picture. Handsome Hansom had had his photograph taken along with the Lord Mayor and Charles St John Mallows.

By half past eight the Riley was outside and their luggage deposited in the boot. Mrs Jarvis had made a packet of sandwiches from last night’s neglected joint, and this, with a couple of thermoses, she gave into the care of Stephens.

‘Just see that the Superintendent eats something…’

She stood at her gate to watch them departing. It was a brilliant morning with a few scanty clouds, and the early traffic had not yet become troublesome.

‘I thought you’d expect me to do a little work on it, sir. I’ve made a few notes of points which occurred to me. Of course, it’s too early to be certain of anything…’

Nevertheless, Stephens had already propounded a theory to himself.

‘If we rule out the husband — and the local police seem to have done it — then I’d say, sir, that we ought to look out for signs of blackmail. There’s this St John Mallows — she might have had her hooks into him, and he must have been near the spot at the time she was murdered.’

‘What do you think she had on him?’ The youngster’s zeal amused Gently.

‘Well, sir, they might have been intimate together.’

‘But St John Mallows isn’t married.’

‘No, but she is, sir. Then there might have been perversity, or something of that kind.’

Had it all seemed so easy when Gently was a young Inspector? Looking back, he couldn’t remember ever having been very sure of himself. But that, possibly, was just the difficulty which Stephens was trying to counter; he was rushing at the case and searching feverishly for a pattern in it.