‘It’s smaller, more extreme and wilder in its denunciation of the Jews. If it ever got into power — God forbid! — it would initiate a series of pogroms. As it is,’ said Keedy, ‘the League is restricted to more modest targets.’

‘Do you think that Jacob Stein’s shop could be one of them?’

‘I couldn’t say, Harv. They gave very little away.’

‘Are you going back on Friday?’

‘I can’t wait.’ He took a cup of tea from Marmion. ‘Thanks.’

While he poured his own tea, Marmion told him about his conversation with Sir Edward Henry and how the commissioner believed that the inspector had finally worked out how the murder must have been committed. There was something else to tell Keedy.

‘You know that I’ve put David Cohen under observation,’ said Marmion. ‘Well, it’s produced an interesting result.’

‘What was it?’

‘He was seen boarding a train to Brighton.’

‘That’s where Howard Fine lives.’

‘There’s no guarantee that Cohen is going to meet him, of course. It seems unlikely. We won’t know the details of his visit until the man shadowing him gets back. But, if the two of them are in cahoots, it would explain a lot.’

‘What about Cyril Burridge?’

‘Oh, he’s not linked to either of them. He disliked Cohen and despised Fine. In fact, I think you’d be hard put to find someone whom Burridge actually admires. There’s iron in that man’s soul.’

‘How did it get there, Harv?’

‘Search me,’ said Marmion. ‘I’m just glad that I don’t have to work alongside someone as dour and unfriendly as that. Yet, by all accounts, Burridge is a happy family man, so he must be a different person at home. He lives with his wife and son, who — you won’t be surprised to hear — is also a tailor. There’s a daughter as well but she married and moved to Lincoln. There may turn out to be a connection between Cohen and Fine but I can safely say that neither of them would ever have been invited to the Burridge abode.’

They drank their tea and reviewed the case in detail. Keedy was about to offer a suggestion when they were interrupted by the sound of loud voices in the kitchen. Marmion was on his feet at once.

‘The debate is still going on,’ he said with a tired smile. ‘I’d better separate the combatants before they come to blows.’

‘Why not send Alice in here? If she’s looking for a flat, I may be able to give her one or two ideas.’

‘I won’t say that in front of Ellen or she’ll explode. But, yes, I will send Alice in for a chat. She needs to calm down as well.’

Marmion went out and the argument quickly subsided. Keedy finished his tea and put the cup back in the saucer. A moment later, Alice came into the room, distinctly shamefaced.

‘I’m sorry about that noise, Joe. It was my fault.’

‘You want to move on, I gather.’

‘Mummy’s trying to keep me here,’ said Alice, ‘but I’ve reached the stage when I need to live on my own.’

‘I know that feeling very well.’

‘By rights, I should have gone years ago.’

‘That’s exactly what I said.’

She peered at him. ‘By the way, why are you dressed up like that?’

‘I’m a storeman at a factory in Kent. At least, I was until I got the sack for trying to stir up trouble.’ Alice was perplexed. ‘I’m not serious. It was a story I had to invent to win somebody’s confidence.’

‘Did it work?’

‘I hope so,’ he said, ‘or I could be in extremely hot water on Friday. But let’s put that aside and talk about you. Ideally, what sort of area would you like to live in?’

‘I haven’t got that far yet, Joe. The way I’m feeling at the moment, I want to get out of London altogether.’

‘This row with your mother has really upset you, hasn’t it?’

‘We both flew off the handle,’ she confessed. ‘I suppose that I’m to blame. I was so angry that I even threatened to leave the country altogether. I said that I’d go to the front as a nurse or something.’

‘Hey, hold on,’ he said. ‘Don’t you desert me as well.’

When she realised what she’d just said, her cheeks coloured slightly. She’d forgotten that Keedy’s girlfriend had been a nurse and had left him to go to Flanders. Alice felt awkward but Keedy was not offended. He was feasting his eyes on her. The glow in her cheeks only added to her appeal. A slow smile spread across his features.

‘I won’t let you go abroad, Alice,’ he said, softly. ‘I like having you here. To be frank, I like it very much indeed.’

Dorothy Holdstock was in a dilemma. If she admitted that she’d met Ernie Gill, her sister would demand to know why she’d kept the information a secret for so long. On the other hand, if she didn’t tell Irene about what Gill had said, she would be misleading her about the man. He’d lied about his mother’s name to one or both of them. It was obviously a trick he used to ingratiate himself with people. Dorothy reproached herself for being so easily taken in. What was the real reason he’d followed her? And how did he know where she worked? She knew that Irene had not told him the address of her shoe shop. How had he found it out? There was another concern. Gill had clearly not meant to be caught trailing her. If she had not sensed his presence, how long would he have continued to dog her footsteps?

Not for the first time, she wished that she’d not been so naive, so ready to believe a man for the simple reason that he paid her a compliment. Gill was a plausible rogue. In essence, that’s what Irene had been telling her all along. She had the sense to keep him at a distance whereas Dorothy had succumbed to his easy charm at their very first encounter. Instead of upbraiding him for daring to follow her, she’d ended up admiring him. She was being used. That was the point of it all. Gill had conceived such a passion for Irene that he was using her sister as a means of getting closer to her. He’d pressed her for details of what Irene had said about him. She was the only reason that he’d moved to London. After failing to woo her at sea, he was pursuing her on dry land.

Irene deserved to be warned but that could only happen if her sister confessed that she’d been deceiving her. Dorothy could simply not do that somehow. It would break the trust between them. It would also expose Dorothy as the impressionable and inexperienced woman that she was. Gill was cunning. In telling her to keep a secret, he’d made her his accessory. He’d won her over. Now that he’d been exposed as a liar, she felt that she’d betrayed her sister. Did she tell Irene the truth or did she remain silent? It was an agonising decision.

Ruth Stein had read somewhere that criminals always returned to the scene of the crime. Yet she was a victim. It simply did not make sense. Because of the vile memories it held for her, she had every reason to avoid Jermyn Street. What had taken her back there? The remains of the shop were illumined by the street lamp nearby. The place looked forlorn and abandoned. It was impossible to believe that it had once been a vibrant business. Ruth’s gaze flicked upwards to take in the office where she and her father had been when the attack started. It was there that he’d met his death, although the full details had been kept from her. There was no glass in the two windows and the frames had been burnt to extinction. Her stomach lurched at the thought of her father’s body being consumed by flames.

She had no idea how she’d got to the West End and only a dim memory of how she’d escaped from the house. Now that she was there, however, she began to discern a purpose in the visit. It was an act of confrontation, a determination to stand up to a terrible event instead of letting it dominate her. All that Ruth had wanted to do at first was hide her shame. Unable to cope with what had happened to her, she’d even considered suicide. That had been unforgivable and she’d sought ways to redeem herself. Facing up to her ordeal was, she dimly perceived, part of the answer. But it was something that she had to do on her own. If her mother or her uncle had taken her there, it would not have been the same.