'You have my deepest sympathy, sir,' he said at length.

Voke was still stunned. 'Who could possibly wish to harm Hugh?' he said, helplessly. 'A more likeable and blameless young man doesn't exist upon this earth. Hugh Kellow was much more than an assistant to me, sergeant. He was my mainstay. I put absolute trust in him. That's why I let him deliver a silver coffee pot to a client in Cardiff.' Realisation suddenly hit him. 'Dear God! Someone stole it, didn't they? That was the reason Hugh was murdered!'

'Yes, sir – the coffee pot has disappeared.'

'Then it's my fault,' confessed the old man, beating his chest with a palm. 'This is all my doing. I should have paid someone to act as an escort for him. I exposed him to unnecessary danger.'

'You weren't to know that someone had designs on the item. I gather that it was concealed in a leather bag.'

'It was, Sergeant Leeming, and I told Hugh that he must not take it out for any reason whatsoever. I even went with him to Paddington Station to select a first class carriage in which he could travel safely. All that Hugh had to do,' Voke went on, 'was to deliver the coffee pot to Mrs Tomkins at the address I gave him.'

'And, presumably, collect some money,' noted Leeming.

'Of course – fifty pounds had already been paid on deposit. The balance was to be collected by Hugh. That's how much I trusted my assistant, you see. I let him collect a substantial amount of money on my behalf. I have to tell you,' he said, replacing his spectacles, 'that I couldn't have entrusted my own son with such an errand. Stephen would have been liable to temptation.'