‘Meaning that it will be some time before I can collect rent from these establishments again,’ Darius said in a mild manner that revealed nothing.

‘I’m afraid so. Of course, what he’s done is legally open to question since he made over everything to you, so technically it was your money he took. You could always try to get it back.’

His tone made it clear that he didn’t attach much hope to that idea. Darius, who attached none at all, controlled his temper. It wasn’t his way to display emotion to employees.

‘How much are we talking about?’ he said with a shrug.

He felt less like shrugging when he saw the figures. Rancing had staged a spectacular theft and there was nothing he could do about it. But at all costs Henly mustn’t be allowed to suspect his dismay.

‘No problem,’ Darius said as indifferently as he could manage. ‘The tourism season is just starting. I shan’t let a detail get me down.’

Henly’s eyes widened at the idea of such a financial blow being a mere detail. He began to think the stories of Mr Falcon’s impending ruin were untrue after all.

Darius, who’d intended him to think exactly that, asked casually, ‘Did he leave owing you any money?’

‘I’m afraid he did-’

‘All right, just send me a detailed bill. That’s all for now.’

For several days he remained in the house, rising early to link up with business contacts on one side of the world, eating whatever Kate brought him and barely taking his eyes from the computer screen. As the hours wore on, he turned to the other side of the world where he had business contacts whose day was just beginning. Day and night ceased to exist; all he knew was what he needed to do to survive.

On a whim, he searched the local phone directory until he found Harriet Connor, living in Bayton Street in Ellarick. A map showed him that it was in the centre of the town.