‘You haven’t seen him since Christmas.’

‘We’ve been so madly busy.’

‘We’d hoped that you might at least spend New Year’s Eve with us.’

‘I told you — I was invited to a party.’

‘Well, you’re invited to a party here any time you like,’ said Ellen, beaming hospitably. ‘You can bring Vera Dowling along, if you wish, or any of the new friends you’ve made in the WEC. I’d like to meet them. And if your father is free, I’ll ask him to invite Joe Keedy as well. That would be nice, wouldn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ said Alice, quietly. ‘That would be very nice.’

Keedy was in luck. When the police car dropped him off outside Hambridge’s house, the carpenter was at home. He was startled when the detective introduced himself and shattered when his worst fears were confirmed. Keedy had to offer a steadying hand. Invited into the house, he saw how spotless and uncluttered it was. There were no paintings on the walls and very few ornaments. The simplicity was striking.

Hambridge slumped onto the settee with his head in his hands. Taking a seat opposite him, Keedy had his notebook and pencil ready. He waited until the younger man recovered enough to be able to meet his gaze.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Hambridge, semaphoring an apology. ‘Cyril was my best friend. I feel so guilty about this.’

‘Why should that be?’

‘It’s because I should have stayed. He sent me on home after the meeting but I should have stayed with him. If I’d done that, he’d still be alive.’

‘Not necessarily,’ said Keedy. ‘We could be investigating two deaths.’

Hambridge sat up. ‘Do you think I’m in danger, then?’

‘I don’t know at this stage but it seems doubtful. What I’m hoping to establish is where the murder is likely to have taken place. To do that, I’ll need you to describe the precise route that your friend would have taken to get back home.’

‘He would have been coming here. This is where we arranged to meet.’

‘How would he get back to Shoreditch?’

‘The same way as us,’ replied Hambridge.

‘Would that route take him anywhere near Drysdale Street?’

‘Oh, yes. My boss told me that’s where the murder took place.’

‘It’s where the body was found, I grant you, but we’ve reason to believe that he was set on elsewhere. Let’s go back to the meeting,’ he suggested. ‘Tell me what time you left, when you got back here and when you expected Cyril to join you.’

Hambridge was too disturbed to give an accurate account of his movements. He kept breaking off to wrestle with the horror of what had happened, continuing to blame himself for not being there to offer protection. Keedy had to be patient, teasing out the details one by one until he had a clearer idea of what had occurred on the previous evening. From the way that Hambridge talked about Price and Leach, he gathered that they were close friends who looked to Ablatt for guidance. The bereaved carpenter spread his arms.

‘Who could possibly have wanted to kill him?’ he asked.

‘I was hoping that you might have some ideas on that score.’

‘But I don’t, Sergeant. I can’t think of anyone who hated Cyril. He was so likeable. We’ve all had difficulties, mind you. There’ve been people who yelled nasty things because we haven’t joined up and an old man spat at us in the street one day, but nobody ever threatened to attack us.’

‘What about those slogans painted on the wall of the Ablatt house?’

‘Cyril used to shrug those off.’

‘Well, his father didn’t. They really upset him at first.’

‘I know. He told us. But it didn’t scare Cyril because he was so brave. He always used to quote that saying. You know — “Sticks and stones will break my bones but names will never hurt me.” That was typical of Cyril.’

Keedy was about to point out that someone had broken the victim’s bones but he decided against it. For all his bulk, Hambridge seemed quite fragile. It was better to steer him away from gory details of the crime. Keedy’s pencil was poised.

‘How long have you known him?’

‘We grew up together.’

‘What about Price and Leach?’

The four of us went to the same school.’

‘And you’re all conscientious objectors, I gather.’

‘I’m a Quaker,’ said Hambridge, simply. ‘We utterly deny all outward wars and strife. That’s what George Fox said and he preached the gospel of peace all his life, even though they put him in prison time and again.’

‘What about the others?’

‘I’m the only Quaker. Cyril was a true Christian. Mansel refuses to let the state bully him into uniform and Gordon just thinks that war is wrong. It was Cyril who sort of spoke for the rest of us. He made a wonderful speech at the meeting. That’s why he was asked to stay behind afterwards. He had a real gift, Sergeant,’ said Hambridge, eyes moistening. ‘None of us could touch him. Cyril had a way with words. I could listen to him all day.’

Gordon Leach had gone on his delivery round with the furtiveness of a man expecting to be attacked at any moment. Convinced that his friend had been murdered, he felt that his own life was also in jeopardy, even though it was now daylight and the streets were full of people. Customers who came to the door to pay him wondered why he thrust their loaves at them, took the money and fled. It was only towards the end of the round that he slowly regained his confidence and began to control his fears. When he found Inspector Harvey Marmion waiting for him at the bakery, however, his lurking desperation was rekindled. He was given official confirmation that Ablatt was indeed the murder victim and it made him turn the colour of flour.

They were alone in the back room that was still pulsing with warmth.

‘I’m sorry to be the bearer of such bad news,’ said Marmion.

‘I knew it already,’ explained Leach. ‘Fred — that’s Fred Hambridge — came to warn me that he’d heard about someone being beaten to death not far from here. We both guessed it had to be Cyril. He didn’t turn up, you see.’

‘Turn up where?’

‘We agreed to meet at Fred’s house after the meeting of the NCF.’

‘Why didn’t he leave with you?’

Leach told him that Ablatt had been detained by the people who organised the meeting. He also gave details of the route they’d taken back to Shoreditch and an approximate time of their arrival at Hambridge’s house. Talking it all through seemed to instil even more trepidation in him. Marmion tried to soothe him.

‘I really don’t think that you are in imminent danger,’ he said, ‘and neither are your friends. It was Cyril Ablatt who was singled out. If someone had had designs on any of you, then they’d have lain in wait until they saw a moment to strike. Have you ever felt that you were being watched?’

‘No, Inspector, I haven’t.’

‘What about your friends?’

‘They’d have mentioned it if that was the case — and they didn’t.’

‘Then none of you need be alarmed. For some unknown reason, the killer’s target was your friend, Cyril. Do you know what that reason might be?’

‘They wanted to silence him.’

‘Who did?’

‘Someone who knew how good Cyril was at making speeches,’ said Leach, blurting out his answer. ‘You could never get the better of him in an argument. He’d tie you in knots. And he could hold a big audience as well. He proved that yesterday. They decided to shut him up.’

‘And who might “they” be?’

‘They’re people who demand that we volunteer for the army, so-called patriots who wave the Union Jack and send others off to die on the battlefield. It’s got to be one of them, Inspector.’

‘I’ll reserve my judgement on that.’

‘There’s so many of them about, you see. I should know. When I deliver the bread, there are three houses I can’t go to any more. They say that they won’t touch anything baked by a conchie — only their language is not as polite as that.’

‘Did Cyril get that kind of response at the library?’