‘Will you excuse me for a moment?’ Joe asked, hardly aware of her presence, his face suddenly strained. He took out a sheet of typed writing paper with a very flamboyant heading and read. He read it again.

He looked at Lily. ‘Won’t you sit down? You’ll excuse me if I do. Rather weakening news at the end of a long and tiring day. As this affects you, I’ll summarize the rather surprising contents. It’s from the Home Secretary. He refuses to accept my resignation, which he considers precipitate and unjustified. Ah! Tomorrow’s papers, he assures me, will sport letters to the editors from various highly placed gents, among them a field marshal, the First Sea Lord, members of Parliament and ministers for Ireland, making it clear that they take personal responsibility for requesting the withdrawal of police protection. No blame can possibly attach to any public servant.’ Joe gave her an evil grin and added: ‘I should guess he includes himself in that category. We’re in the clear, Wentworth. Blue Train to the Riviera postponed. You’ll have to put off seeing those palm trees for a bit longer.’

His rush of boyish good humour provoked an answering smile. ‘I’m glad justice has been done, sir,’ she said. ‘Any other outcome would have been a hideous shame. And I congratulate you on having such powerful allies. From what I’ve seen of the task you have ahead of you, you’re going to need them all. I wish you luck with it.’

Joe detected a farewell-and-thanks-for-the-ride flavour to her speech. ‘What’s this? I don’t much care for your tone, Wentworth. What are you trying to say?’

‘Earlier in the day I offered you my resignation from the force. I meant it then and the day I’ve just been through has served to reinforce my decision. I don’t care to go to war, sir. I’ve had enough of bullets and bandages, male mischief-making and female grief. I’m leaving and here’s my letter of resignation.’ She produced it from her pocket.

He was irritated. ‘Don’t be rash. What on earth will a bright girl like you do in the world? Do you have other employment in mind? Jobs are scarce, you know. Ah! Hopkirk scared you off, has he? I ought to tell you – he scares everyone.’

‘Not at all. I’m going to sell hats, sir.’

‘What? Hats? Sell them? Did I hear you correctly?’

‘You did. My aunt Phyllis has a millinery business in Bruton Street. I’m going to work for her. When women try on a hat, they smile at themselves in the mirror. I like to see that. I’m going to take up a position that lets me put a smile on women’s faces instead of a grimace of pain.’

‘Anyone can say “Modom looks wonderful in that”. It takes a special kind of girl to tell a mother her son’s a murderer and he’s about to hang for his crime,’ Joe said quietly.

Lily tilted her chin in defiance and handed over the envelope.

Joe took it, stern faced, refusing to open it in her presence. He watched her turn away. She must be aware that no one could treat a senior officer with such lack of respect and get away with it. Not even his equals or superiors would descend to such rudeness. In a building patrolled by his minions, she could expect to find a heavy hand descending on her shoulder before she could make it out into the courtyard.

With a show of unconcern, he didn’t rise and come to open the door for her. While she struggled with the knob, he called after her, casual and cheery: ‘Off now, are you? Look – don’t think of going far, will you?’

As she closed the door behind her, his hand reached out to the electric buzzer on his desk.

Miss Jameson emerged from her room opposite just as Lily prepared to set off down the corridor. ‘Constable! A moment!’ She ducked back into her room.

Lily started off and then turned to see Miss Jameson stalking after her, carrying an extravagant bouquet of white flowers. They looked each other over in mutual puzzlement.

‘I’ve been keeping these fresh in my room since this morning,’ Miss Jameson said accusingly. ‘I think they’ve survived. Glad to be rid of them – they were making my room smell like a funeral parlour. The commander brought them in. He’d like you to have them.’

‘Me? Are you sure? But why?’ Lily said unguardedly.

Miss Jameson shrugged an elegant shoulder. ‘Who can say? If you don’t know, I’m sure no one else does. He’s a law unto himself. He’s known to indulge, on occasion, in … whimsicality.’ The distaste in her voice suggested whimsicality might well be accounted the eighth deadly sin. ‘There’s a note in there, you’ll find.’ She turned on her heel.

Alone in the corridor, Lily fished out a small florist’s envelope, opened it and took out a note written in black ink. Present yourself here at 6 p.m. Saturday week in Mata Hari mode. Something sparkling at the wrist and throat? I have another little problem you can help me with. JS.

Joe waited until he heard Miss Jameson’s door close again and Lily’s footsteps retreat down the corridor before he picked up the telephone and requested the internal number he had rung before.

‘She’s just left.’

Chapter Thirteen

A murmured question at the other end of the line prompted the response: ‘Oh, yes, I think so. In any case she’ll have to do … no time to look further. She’s the right age – which is to say a year or two younger than our friend. How old is he these days? Twenty-eight?

‘No, she’s not out of the top drawer, I’m afraid. The lowest grade for intake recommended by Sir Nevil – what was it? Upper shop-assistant level? Yes, pitch it there. Is that where you’d find millinery? Hats? But her behaviour’s acceptable. She’ll pass.’

He listened impatiently to a further query and answered briskly: ‘Well of course we have. But none of them has the other qualities we require. My cousin Margery might oblige, if I asked her … though she runs Girl Guides shindigs on Saturday nights, I believe. And I very much doubt she can do the tango.’

He eased the receiver a little way from his ear. ‘Well, there you are then. You’ll have to take what’s on offer. It’s a question of settling for the best balance. I’ve passed them all in review and you’ll have to take my word for it, this is the best we can do. Look – I took the precaution of trailing her before a friend … Lady Dedham … Cassandra. Knowing nothing to the contrary, she took her for one of our upper-class young ladies. In fact, the girl made a very favourable impression. No awkwardness at all, sympathetic and chatty, was the verdict. Cassandra’s asked to see her again – quite unprompted by me. “Someone I can really talk to,” she says. And Cassandra Dedham’s no one’s fool.

‘Accent? Do you know, I hadn’t noticed one,’ Joe lied cheerily. ‘They can always talk to each other in cockney, I suppose … he’s an adept. I’ve heard him at it. And she is a London lass. Though Margery, who seems to have got somewhat fond of the girl, assures me she can, in fact, produce a Mayfair drawl that’s indistinguishable from the real thing. Ghastly, but it might be useful.’

The voice at the other end guffawed and exclaimed: ‘So that was her! Thought it must have been. Did you realize, sir? She rang us up from your office, pretending to be the operator. She got Howard – who’s not the sharpest – and pulled the wool over his eyes. It was a beat or two before he caught on. He thinks he got away with it – played the silly ass and burbled a bit. Told her he was the War Office! That must have shaken her.’

‘Mmm … not so’s you’d notice,’ Joe murmured. ‘I wondered if she’d have the initiative to follow that through. Well, well! I chalk one up to Wentworth. Another one. She seems to be scoring all round the wicket.’

He listened to a further question and replied testily: ‘Educated? Gracious, man – does it matter? She’s hardly likely to be taking part in a Platonic symposium in the company we have in mind. But if you need to know – according to her notes, she matriculated from a boys’ grammar school. Odd, that …’ He consulted his file. ‘Is that possible? Should have been followed up at interview … Not to be dismissed, those establishments … my best super is a product of one such. We’ll probably find they’ve taught her to conjugate a deponent verb and debunk the Phlogiston Theory in a hundred words. Let’s pray she’s not minded to do either on Saturday week. It would fall a bit flat.