'Ah,' said Colbeck, jabbing a finger at the man in the centre of the painting. 'This is where I got it wrong. He's wearing a jacket.'

'And a pair of shoes,' added Hooper.

'Are you absolutely sure that was the case?'

'That's the kind of detail an artist doesn't miss. The shoes were gleaming. They caught the sun as he plummeted down. They're only minute in the painting, of course, but, if you look closely, you'll see that the shoes are definitely there.'

'They are indeed.'

'I'm a stickler for precision.'

'This is remarkable, Mr Hooper,' said Colbeck, shaking him warmly by the hand. 'I can't thank you enough.'

'We also serve who only stand and paint.'

'You've made our job so much easier. What a blessing that you happened to be in the right place at the right time!'

'I have a habit of doing that, Inspector. At first, I used to put it down to coincidence but I've come round to the view that I'm an agent of divine purpose. God wanted me to bear witness. I daresay it was also true of Aunt Petronella but she was unequal to the challenge.' He looked at the tiny figure of the murder victim. 'What I'd like to know is how he brought off that wonderful conjuring trick.'

'Conjuring trick?'

'Yes,' said Hooper. 'When he left the train, he was wearing a jacket and a pair of shoes. How did he get rid of them by the time that the police arrived on the scene?'

'There's no mystery there,' said Colbeck with a wry smile.

'No?'

'He clearly had some assistance.'

Victor Leeming talked to every member of staff he could find at the station. By the time he finished, he felt that he had spoken to half the population of Manchester and all to no avail. Ticket clerks, porters, the stationmaster, his assistants, the engine driver, the fireman, even those who sold newspapers at Victoria Station were asked if they had seen anyone suspicious around the same time on the previous day.