‘Meg!’ said Carter, seriously annoyed. ‘You don’t know that.’

‘Everybody knows that! You should hear Dulcie Pettigrew!’

‘I’ve no desire to hear Dulcie Pettigrew,’ said Carter. ’Sharpest tongue in Simla! Wouldn’t believe a word she said. All the same, it is true that he is something of a layabout. There is a sort of huntin’, drinkin’, dancin’, gamblin’ mob in Simla, mostly army or ex-army, who make a business of bad behaviour and Reggie Sharpe is right in the middle of that. Johnny Bristow, Bertie Hearn-Robinson, Jackie Carlisle, Edgar Troop, oh they’re all the same! I was going to say I wouldn’t have one of them in the house but then, not one of them would condescend to enter our humble abode! It’s a sort of twilight world – not received by H.E. and I very much doubt if any of them would be received by Sir George. They batten on the visitors, show them around, give them a good time, show them “the real India” – I can hear it all! Edgar Troop’s the worst! A good deal older than the others and definitely their leader. I can’t stand him but Reggie sees a lot of him, it seems.’

‘The wonder of it is that Alice puts up with it,’ said Meg. ‘But they say they pretty much live separate lives now. Alice gets on with all the many things she has to do while Reggie surveys the world through the bottom of a whisky bottle!’

With this flourish Meg decided that the two round-eyed children had heard enough of adult conversation. She rose from the table and, summoning the help of the ayah with a clap of her hands, bustled them off for their afternoon sleep.

This flurry of activity over, Carter said confidentially to Joe, ‘You must excuse Meg – though I have to say that’s the reaction you’ll get from any decent woman in Simla once the name of Reggie Sharpe is mentioned. Men seem to rub along easily enough with him but there’s something about him that makes women bristle with rage and disgust. I could almost be sorry for him. But, of course, they all know…’

‘Know? Know what?’

Carter stirred uncomfortably and listened for the sounds of laughter from the other end of the bungalow before continuing.

‘Well, when I said “huntin’, shootin’ and gamblin’” just now I could have added, er…’

‘Whorin’?’ suggested Joe cheerfully.

‘Exactly. That coterie may not be received by H.E. but they all find a warm welcome at Madame Flora’s.’

‘Madame Flora’s eh? A de luxe establishment I take it?’

‘Oh yes. Very recherché! And she is actually French, the madam. The place seems to be run jointly by her and her English protector – who but Edgar Troop! Troop! He’s everything people mean when they talk about a “bounder”. Calls himself Captain Troop but no one’s sure in what outfit. He was never a captain in the British Army or the Indian Army either. He lays claim to having served in the Imperial Russian Army and it may be true. He’s certainly very knowledgeable. Understands the frontier and he’s well connected in tribal territory.’

‘Has he any other source of income?’ Joe asked. ‘Apart from battening on Madame Flora? Couldn’t you get him for living on immoral earnings?’

‘No, it’s not a crime under the Indian Penal Code. I mean – you couldn’t enforce it. In a country where the avocation of temple prostitute is perfectly respectable such a thing would be ridiculous. And anyway, Edgar Troop takes people on shooting trips. Plenty of starry-eyed tourists to fall for that sort of thing. Really knows his stuff. I took the trouble to go out with him once just to check up, you know. Not ready to risk any amateurs getting themselves chewed up in my territory! I was impressed. He knows what he’s doing all right. And, of course, any check – and I’ve run several – on his financial arrangements shows that they are completely above board and within the law.’ He sighed.

‘So you’ve no temptation or inclination to close Madame Flora down?’

‘Not at the moment. I like to have the buggers where I can see them! But this is India. Lots of randy young blokes about. Lots of randy old blokes too! The air of Simla affects young and old alike, as you’ll find if you haven’t already.’

‘If we raided the place you might find some empty chairs at the next meeting of the Legislative Council?’ suggested Joe.

‘Certainly! Embarrassing, what!’

‘From the eminence of the clientele I would guess that the place is well run?’

‘Come on a raid with me, if you like. See for yourself. No expense spared, you’ll find. It’s run with the efficiency of a top-class hotel and the decor is sumptuous – all red plush, gilt mirrors and subdued lighting, rude but expensive paintings on the wall, you know the sort of thing.’

‘And the girls?’

‘Something for every taste. European, Eurasian, local girls from the hills. All beautiful. And none under-age or sick or coerced as far as I can establish. They know I’d be down on them like a ton of bricks! And in such an establishment you wouldn’t prosper on the North-West Frontier if boys weren’t available too for anyone who likes his vices versa.’

‘Good Lord!’ said Joe. ‘There are huge possibilities for blackmail here.’

‘Oh yes. No cases reported to me yet but if I put my mind to it I could think of at least six eminent persons in Simla at this moment whose reputations hang by a thread.’

‘And bribery? Has Troop attempted…?’

‘First thing he did. So discreetly I couldn’t pin anything on him but I’m sure an offer was made to me. My response left him in no doubt as to where I stood! But it happens all the time.’

‘And where is this bordello?’

‘It’s cleverly located! It’s in the Lower Bazaar but just off the Mall and down an alleyway between two popular shopping areas. Any lady spotting her husband down there wouldn’t suspect a thing. She’d assume he was on his way to the Stephanatos Emporium to buy himself some cigars or to Latif’s brass foundry to order the taps she’d been nagging for for months. Or – and this is the best bit — ’ Carter gave a cheerful smile, ‘she might even guess that he was about to buy her a bouquet of roses.’

‘Roses?’

‘Yes! Would you believe the cheek! The front for this operation is actually a flower shop! Madame Flora’s, you see! You enter innocently into a flower shop but if your tastes run to more exotic blooms you are shown into the back and up the stairs.’

‘This Flora – what do you know of her?’

‘Very little. Mysterious woman. Never appears in public – wouldn’t be received, naturally. She’s French – or pretends to be! I’m no expert but the accent has always seemed to be just a little bit ooh-là-là to my ear. Late twenties, very pretty, perfect manners. She just appeared in Simla out of the blue, under the protection of Edgar Troop, and opened up. With instant success. The money – and it must have taken a fair bit to launch the business – must have been hers. Troop was never in that league financially.’

Joe sighed. ‘Well, this is all very fascinating but where does it leave us as far as our murders are concerned?’

‘Madame Flora was firmly established and doing well about six months before Lionel Conyers appeared or failed to appear in Simla so I’d say absolutely no connection if it weren’t for Reggie Sharpe. He’s the connection. Drinking companion and client of Edgar Troop’s establishment… every reason to want Lionel dead… perhaps Troop is branching out into the bespoke killing business.’

‘But the Russian? How does he fit in?’

Carter shrugged. ‘I’m still not convinced that he does. From any angle, Sandilands, you still look like a better target for an assassin’s bullet than Korsovsky. Someone may have got wind of the fact that Sir George was planning to put his tame ferret down a particularly nasty rat hole in Simla.’

At that moment Carter’s sharp ears warned him of Meg’s return and he added hurriedly, ‘And listen, Joe, don’t even think of going off to inspect that flower shop by yourself! I couldn’t guarantee your safety. If we have to, we’ll go together – with plenty of back-up!’