‘The matter must already have been costly,’ said Frances, ‘and you say that Mrs Antrobus has few resources. How does she meet the legal fees?’

Wylie had the good taste to blush. ‘Yes, well, I confess that I have been providing some financial assistance,’ he admitted, revealing nothing that Frances had not already suspected, ‘and this has not, of course, recommended me to Mr Lionel Antrobus, who had imagined that his sister-in-law was friendless and without the means to oppose him. There is another matter that causes Mrs Antrobus great distress. During her sons’ holidays from school they are sent to stay with an aunt in Kent. They are happy enough as there is much in the way of fresh air and recreation but they do not see their mother. She receives letters from them and writes to them but that is all.’ He shook his head. ‘It is unnecessary for me to say at whose orders that arrangement has been made.’

Frances took some moments to read through her notes. ‘When a search was originally conducted for Mr Antrobus, was it carried out in the belief that he had not left Bristol and was therefore centred entirely in that city?’

‘That is the case. None of his associates in London have seen him since he last departed for Bristol.’

‘But you now wish me to make enquiries on the assumption that he did in fact return to London?’

‘I do, yes.’

‘But you have no evidence that he did.’

‘Oh, but we do!’ he exclaimed. ‘There are the remains found in the canal.’

‘But they prove nothing,’ Frances pointed out. ‘They may not be his remains.’

‘It is our contention, indeed our firm belief that they are the remains of Mr Antrobus. All we require is the removal of others’ doubts in the matter.’ There was a pleading expression in his eyes, a wet gleam that aroused Frances’ suspicion that she was far from being the first detective he had approached for this purpose.

‘This is a very interesting commission.’ He looked hopeful and opened the document case, which was well stuffed with papers. ‘But I regret that I cannot take it.’

‘Oh!’ His face fell and she could see that it had fallen before. ‘I cannot persuade you?’ he ventured.

‘No. Not on the terms you describe.’

He closed the case and prepared to leave, but she lifted her hand to forestall him.

‘You have asked me to start my enquiries by assuming that the remains found in the Paddington Basin are those of Mr Antrobus and with the object of proving that they are. It is quite impossible for me to proceed on that basis. I can gather facts, of course, but what if I uncover facts that show the opposite conclusion? What would you have me do? I can hardly ignore them. I can form theories and test them against the facts, of course, but if the facts do not fit it is time to find another theory. I cannot act as you wish and any detective who does will be taking your money in a spirit of mockery.’

Wylie fidgeted with his hat brim. ‘I did, when the remains were first found, engage a London man to make enquiries, and he did very little for a month and then told me that the task could not be achieved and presented me with his bill. And there have been others who refused even to make the attempt. Then I read in the newspapers about your giving evidence at a recent murder trial and was most impressed by the thoroughness of your methods. Someone I spoke to likened you to Jude the Apostle – he said you are the patron saint of lost causes. I am sorry to have troubled you, Miss Doughty.’

‘But it is an interesting case.’

He had half risen from his seat but paused, gave her a curious look, and sat down again.

‘I want you to be perfectly honest with me,’ said Frances. ‘I don’t think that you yourself are convinced that the remains are those of Mr Antrobus. And if I might venture an opinion, I don’t think Mrs Antrobus believes so either. Both of you are, however, very anxious that the remains are identified as those of Mr Antrobus because if they are he will be declared dead and Mrs Antrobus can try to extricate herself from her financial disarray some years earlier than anticipated. Am I correct?’

He hesitated and then nodded. ‘You are correct, of course.’

‘On all counts?’

He licked his lips. ‘I can only speak for myself, but – yes.’

‘And if events should turn out as you wish, Mrs Antrobus would be a widow and free to marry again if she so chooses.’

He said nothing but an embarrassed smile spoke for him.

‘Very well,’ Frances declared in her best businesslike manner, ‘this is how I suggest I proceed. I will start a new enquiry into the disappearance of Mr Antrobus. Since the previous one was conducted only in Bristol, I will see what I can learn in London. I will of course consult with your Bristol agent. But my mission, and I must make this very clear from the outset, will be to find out the truth, whatever that may be. While the remains found in the canal might be those of Mr Antrobus, they could just as well be those of another man. Will that be acceptable?’

‘You are very direct, Miss Doughty. I have heard that said of you also.’ He thought for a moment. ‘I believe we may accept your terms. Let me consult with Mrs Antrobus and I will call again.’

‘It will of course be necessary for me to interview Mrs Antrobus.’

‘She prefers to communicate by letter with people not familiar with her infirmity.’

‘Then you must familiarise me. Mrs Antrobus is most probably the best source of information there is on her husband’s character and movements. I must speak with her.’ Frances did not add that when conducting interviews she paid great attention to the facial expressions and attitudes of the people she spoke to and sometimes learned more from those than from the words spoken. And she would have some potentially embarrassing questions to ask Mrs Antrobus.

‘Very well,’ he agreed reluctantly. ‘I do converse with her, of course, but it is essential that when I do so I speak quietly. Raised voices she cannot abide, not even so much as a sneeze or a cough. Do not wear silk, as it rustles so, neither must you wear shoes with hard soles or open and close a reticule or any case with a fastening where metal snaps against metal. The pain she endures from such sounds are like a knife thrust into her ear. And yet there are some sounds that still give her pleasure – the wind and gentle rain, and voices both soft and low. She plays the piano for relief and her sister has a low melodious voice and sings to her. Silence she finds a great trial as her ears seem to make a noise of their own that never stops by night or day.’

Frances could hardly imagine the misery that must attend such a life, and she looked forward all the more to meeting the lady in question. ‘I will write to Mrs Antrobus and make an appointment,’ she said. ‘I will also interview Mr Antrobus’ friends and associates who saw him in the months immediately preceding his disappearance. I need to know all his circumstances: his character, his faults, his ambitions – everything that might provide a clue as to his fate. I must consider whether he has met his death by accident, self-destruction or murder, and also if he might still be alive. I rule out nothing.’

Mr Wylie provided Frances with the Bristol detective’s report and the addresses of Mr Luckhurst and Mr Lionel Antrobus, who, Mr Wylie said, knew the missing man better than anyone in London other than his wife. The payment of a handsome advance fee completed the proceedings and he departed.

‘What did you think of Mr Wylie?’ asked Frances as she and Sarah studied the report and reread the newspapers over a large pot of tea. Frances never ceased to wonder how it was that hot tea, with or without a biscuit, could be so wonderfully warming to the system in the winter, yet so refreshing in the summer. Either way it never failed to stimulate her thoughts.