Phipps set the file on Rutledge’s desk and began to pace the narrow office as he spoke.

“Bowles has given you to me. Anything in particular on your desk at the moment?”

Rutledge said, “I’ve closed the file on George Ferrell. This morning.”

“Good, good!” Phipps wheeled and paced back the other way.

“Each of our victims,” Phipps went on, “was found on a Sunday morning. Tomorrow is Saturday. I want Green Park covered from first light to first light. You’ll be given a police matron dressed as a nanny. She’ll be pushing a pram, and you’re her suitor, a young clerk from a nearby shop, who urges her to sit and talk for an hour.” He paused to consider Rutledge. “You don’t really look like a lovesick young clerk. I’ll ask Constable Bevins to assume that role, instead, and you can walk Bevins’s dog several times during the day and early evening. I want an inspector close by at all times, you see. You’ll have the damned dog on your hands until Bevins is off duty. See the beast doesn’t annoy the chief superintendent, if you must bring it back to the Yard.”

“With so many people in the Park, it isn’t likely that another murder will occur there,” Rutledge pointed out.

“And that’s what I’m hoping, don’t you see? We throw our man off balance, make it difficult for him to plan.” Phipps paused long enough to crack his knuckles, one by one. “Once the killer has lured his target into the park, it won’t be easy to shift him to another site.”

“What if he’s already killed the two men he’d intended to murder?”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s a very likely possibility! We’ve got ourselves a trend here, don’t you know.