The first thing to do was to establish the girl’s identity. He peeled open the crumpled card. As he had suspected, it was an invitation to the premiere. But there was no name written on it, whether in green ink or any other.

Quinn climbed on to one of the zebra-print chairs. There was a scandalized gasp. ‘Ladies and gentlemen. I am Detective Inspector Quinn. I believe many of you saw the girl who was attacked tonight. I have reason to believe that she attended this evening’s screening. Can any of you tell me who she is?’

All that his enquiry prompted was a bemused and faintly outraged rumbling, with much head-shaking. It seemed that his ploy to gain their attention by elevating himself had served only to arouse their indignation. After the attack on the young woman, this was insult added to her injury. Also, his behaviour seemed to give them licence to begin drinking, as if that transgression opened the door to others. There was a sudden crush at the champagne tables, a rise in the general hubbub, an unseemly sense of release.

Quinn jumped down. He was approached immediately by Lord Dunwich. ‘Good heavens, Quinn! Was that strictly necessary? These chairs are genuine Viennese Jugendstil. Have you any idea how much they cost?’

‘And have you any idea who that man is?’ Quinn kept his voice down as he nodded towards Hartmann.

‘Yes. I know full well who he is.’

‘He is German.’

‘I know that.’

‘I thought you wanted us to investigate Germans.’

‘Not all Germans are spies, Quinn.’

‘We believe he is. Indeed, we believe he is the head of a spy network.’

‘Nonsense. Oskar Hartmann is a businessman. In fact, he is a business associate of mine. I have invested in several of his companies, including Visionary Productions. We do have some friends in Germany, you know, Quinn. And we must foster and strengthen those links that do exist. It is not too late to avert the thing that we all fear. War can be avoided if we can forge an alliance of well-intentioned men on both sides.’

‘You might avoid war if you contrive to deliver England over to the Germans without a fight.’

‘What are you suggesting?’

‘That man, Hartmann, was seen at Dortmunder’s barbershop …’

‘I expressly instructed you not to investigate the barbershop.’

‘Yes, and now I am wondering why.’

‘You impertinent fool!’

‘Hartmann was witnessed by one of my officers handing over secret materials to the barber.’

‘What secret materials?’

‘We do not know the precise nature of the materials in question.’

‘Then how do you know they are secret?’

‘The lettering on the envelope was written in green ink.’ Some instinct persuaded Quinn that this was the one detail that would make Lord Dunwich take his suspicions seriously. Even so, the reaction was far in excess of what he had expected. Lord Dunwich’s eyes widened in fear. The colour went from his face.

‘What is it?’ Quinn’s voice became an urgent whisper. ‘There is something you are not telling me, I know it.’

‘Nothing. I … what happened to that girl has set my nerves on edge …’ Lord Dunwich’s gaze flitted wildly. His aggressive super-iority had abandoned him. He was afraid.

‘I cannot do my job if you’re not completely frank with me.’

‘You don’t know what you ask.’

‘Did something happen, Lord Dunwich?’

‘I was sent something. A package. The address was written in green ink. That’s all.’

‘What was it?’

‘Now is not the time, Quinn. It has nothing to do with Herr Hartmann, I am sure. It was just someone’s idea of a joke.’

‘What were you sent?’

‘Just … a billiard ball.’

‘Why would anyone send you a billiard ball?’

‘I don’t know. There was no explanation. No name. Just a billiard ball. It had been painted to look like an eye, that was all.’

Quinn’s hand tightened on the eye concealed in the darkness of his pocket. ‘A rather significant detail, don’t you think? Do you have any idea who sent it?’

‘No … I can’t imagine.’

‘Do you still have it? And the packaging it came in? The writing in green ink?’

‘Yes. I have kept it. It’s locked in a drawer at the Admiralty. For some reason I didn’t like the idea of throwing it away.’

‘Will you kindly have it sent round to me at the Special Crimes Department at your soonest convenience. Were you intending to go into the Admiralty tomorrow, for example?’

‘Yes. We’re frightfully busy at the moment. Between you and me, Quinn, the country is not far from a war footing. If things deteriorate much further, you will see us move to Total War as soon as May.’

Quinn nodded grimly. ‘That makes it all the more urgent that I see this … object.’

‘Do you really think it could be important?’

‘You are a minister in a department that plays a vital role in our country’s defence. You may well be a target for our enemies. I would not be surprised to discover that this bizarre package has some sinister significance. The green ink is very telling, I believe.’ He lifted the handkerchief with its gruesome contents out of his pocket and looked down at it. ‘What colour was the eye you were sent?’

‘Blue, I seem to remember.’

Quinn realized that he had not registered the colour of the eye in his hand. He knew that he had looked into the iris, as he had into the iris of the eye that remained in place. But he could not remember the colour of her eyes. It became suddenly important for him to check this detail. He folded back the flap of the handkerchief and turned the object it contained. It was already beginning to shrivel and the white of the sclera was turning a dull grey. The iris, he saw, was brown.

‘Good God, man! Do you have to?’

Quinn regarded Lord Dunwich with an expression of mild, absent-minded curiosity. He frowned and folded the handkerchief back over, restoring the eye to his pocket.

‘And then there’s the fact that you were sent a package containing an eye – or something that was made to look like an eye. That links it with what has happened tonight. Although the colours of the eyes are different. At any rate, what has happened tonight is connected with your friend Hartmann. It happened outside his company, following the showing of a motion picture made by his company. And Hartmann is linked with another package addressed in green ink – the one that my sergeant saw at the barbershop.’ Quinn glanced over to Hartmann, who was now in earnest conversation, sotto voce, with Waechter. ‘What do you know about the fellow he’s talking to? The one with the eye patch?’

‘Waechter? I know that many believe him to be a genius.’

‘He killed a man, I believe.’

‘It was in a duel, Inspector. And it did happen in Austria.’

‘Does that make it acceptable?’

‘It makes it no concern of mine.’

‘He cannot go back to Austria, I hear.’

‘I believe that is the case.’

‘Perhaps he is looking for a powerful ally to intercede on his behalf? To facilitate his return to his homeland? If he were to prove himself in the service of this ally, things might go better for him at home?’

‘Interesting. At the time of his duel he was an officer in the Landwehr. But he was dishonourably discharged.’

‘For duelling? But isn’t that all to do with honour?’

‘I don’t think it was anything to do with his duel. There were rumours … of a scandal.’

‘What kind of a scandal?’

‘Not here, Quinn. My God, what do you take me for? I have said too much already. What you have to understand about Konrad Waechter is that he is first and foremost an artist. No, I don’t see it. I just don’t see what role he could possibly play in issues of national security.’

‘He knows how to handle a camera. It could be used for recording sensitive material. Naval defences, for example.’

‘Have your officers seen Waechter at the barber’s?’

‘No. Only Hartmann.’