‘His anger is masking his grief,’ said Marmion. ‘Underneath that bluster, I’m sure that he’s already in mourning. What we’re seeing is a natural fury that the shop has gone up in smoke simply because it had a German name over it.’

‘Why didn’t you tell him the full story, Inspector?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘His brother was stabbed to death,’ Keedy reminded him.

‘First, we’re not absolutely sure that it is Jacob Stein. Second, even if it is, we need to establish the exact cause and likely time of death before we give those details to any relatives. Police work is sometimes about holding back information, Joe.’

‘Supposing one of the firemen tells him?’

‘I made it clear that they were to say nothing. There are a couple of reporters hanging about. If they get a sniff of murder, it will be all over the newspapers tomorrow. I want to conduct this investigation at our pace and not that of the British press.’

‘Fair enough — what do we do now?’

‘Nothing much is going to happen here for a while,’ decided Marmion, ‘so I’ll slip off and interview the two people in custody.’

‘Do you want me to come with you?’

‘No thanks, Joe. You stay here. And if any reporters try to pester you, don’t give anything away.’ Marmion was about to leave when he remembered something. ‘By the way, that was very clever of you. How did you know that Mr Stone had a Jacob Stein suit?’

‘That was easy,’ explained Keedy. ‘I can pick out the work of all the best outfitters in London. Their styles are so individual. Then there’s the other clue, of course.’

‘What other clue?’

‘You’ve met Stone. He likes to dress well and he’s the kind of man who’d always patronise someone who gave him a big discount. Nobody else but his brother would do that.’

Marmion grinned. ‘You ought to be a detective, Joe Keedy.’