Instead of answering Crowe wound the bone-handled brass reel at his end of the rod, expertly pulling the line in. The feathered lure jumped out of the water and hung suspended in the air, glittering droplets of water falling from it and striking the lake. He jerked the rod back. The line flew above his head, the lure blurring as it moved. He whipped the rod forward again, and the lure made a figure-of-eight shape against the blue sky as it flew over his head and hit the surface of the lake in a different location, making a small splash. He watched, smiling slightly as it drifted.

‘Any good fisherman knows,’ Crowe said, ‘that fish react differently dependin’ on the temperature and the time of year. Early mornin’ in spring, for instance, fish won’t bite at all. The water is cold and it don’t heat up much, because the sun is low and its rays bounce off the water, so the fish are sluggish. Their blood, bein’ cold and influenced by the surrounding environment, is flowing slowly. Wait ’til late mornin’ or early afternoon an’ things start to change. The fish will bite intermittently because the sun is shinin’ on the water, warmin’ it up and makin’ them more lively. Of course, the wind will push the warmer surface water and the little midges an’ stuff they feed on around, an’ as a fisherman you got to follow that movement. No point in fishin’ where the water is still cold or where there ain’t any food. An’ all that can change dependin’ on the time of year.’

‘Should I be taking notes?’ Sherlock asked.

‘You’ve got a head on your shoulders – use it. Memorize the facts.’ He snorted, and continued: ‘In winter, to take an example, the water’s cold, maybe even iced up, an’ the fish ain’t movin’ too fast. They’re livin’ off the reserves they built up in the autumn, by an’ large. No good fishin’ in the wintertime. Now – what have you learned so far?’