The rape had diminished her as a person. Having the courage to return to the place where it happened, she felt, was the first stage in the process of growth. Ruth had to rediscover her confidence and redefine herself as a young woman. She refused to spend the rest of her life cowering before a gruesome event. She had to get beyond it. Without realising it, her brother had helped. Daniel would be told the details of what had occurred that night. She didn’t want him to come home and find her whimpering in her room. He’d be devastated that she’d tried to end her life but she might win back his love and respect if she demonstrated some spirit. In joining the army, her brother had shown bravery. It was time for Ruth to show a different sort of bravery, to prove that she could face a hideous experience in her past without flinching.

She walked to the rear of the building and stood beside the entrance to the alley. It was in shadow now. Only yards away from where she’d been assaulted, she wanted to walk to the exact spot but she began to falter. Ugly memories filled her head and her eyes misted over for a second. When she could see clearly, the alley was still there and so was the challenge. Ruth had to walk up it in defiance, as a means of boldly facing her attackers. Hands bunched tightly and with her heart beating like a drum, she took a first tentative step then a second, longer one. Though she was shaking all over, she went on with quickening strides, past the site of the rape and on to the end of the alley. The sense of achievement was thrilling and she felt a surge of power coursing through her. Ruth had gained a sense of control.

When she turned round, however, her elation evaporated. A figure had appeared at the other end of the alley, blocking her way. He was only there for an instant. In fact, he vanished so swiftly that she wondered if she’d really seen him. No longer afraid, she went back down the alley and out into the street. She felt proud of what she’d done but the fleeting encounter stayed in her mind. It was strange. Though she’d only glimpsed the figure in silhouette, she felt that she somehow knew the man.

It was two years since the Criminal Record Office had come into being. Initiated in 1869 and modified in 1871, it had originally been called the Habitual Criminals Register and was a list of all offenders who’d been convicted and imprisoned. Details were kept of their appearance, their crimes, their sentences and the dates of their discharge from various prisons. Photographs were a vital component of the records and, since 1901, fingerprints were also retained, thanks to the man who was now the commissioner. It was during his time as Inspector General of the Bengal Police that Edward Henry, as he then was, realised the importance that fingerprinting could hold in the fight against crime. His book, Classification and Uses of Finger Prints, had been adopted as a guide by the Indian Government and had led to the setting up in Britain of the Fingerprint Bureau.

‘Where would we be without Sir Edward?’ asked Marmion, looking at a set of fingerprints. ‘He made our job a lot easier when he reminded us that each of us has a unique set of fingerprints.’

‘Yes,’ said Keedy, ‘a set of dabs can be a great help.’

‘Not that they’re any use to us now, Joe. What you need is a nice clear photograph of him — assuming that he does have a criminal record, of course.’

‘I’m certain he does, Inspector. You get a feeling about some people and Brad was one of them. He’s seen the inside of a prison.’

‘And he may well do so again.’

The two men were seated behind Marmion’s desk as they leafed through the records. It was painstaking work but Keedy insisted that it would pay dividends. He was keen to identify the bald man whom he’d met at the Lord Nelson. All that they had to go on was a first name and a hunch but Marmion had learnt to trust his colleague’s hunches. As he turned over another page, he remembered Keedy’s visit to the house the previous evening.

‘What did you say to Alice?’ he asked.

‘We had a pleasant chat, that’s all.’

‘Well, she was in a lovely mood this morning. And she was much more tactful with Ellen. Every time her mother tried to start an argument, Alice managed to calm her down.’

‘I don’t think I can claim any credit,’ said Keedy.

‘You perked my daughter up, I know that.’

‘I simply told her she was making the right decision.’

‘She’d need more than that to lift her spirits.’

Keedy beamed. ‘It’s the effect I have on women.’ As a new face came into view, he took a close look. ‘That’s like him. In fact, it’s very much like him but …’ He shook his head. ‘No, it’s not him. He’s got the same broken nose but the eyes are different from Brad’s.’

‘So is his name,’ observed Marmion. ‘He’s Eric Hubbleday and he can’t possibly be your man. Look what it says here.’

Keedy read the note aloud. ‘Deceased — March 10, 1914.’

‘Let’s move on.’

As they continued to sift through the records, Keedy let his mind wander to other aspects of the investigation.

‘Did you have a report on David Cohen’s movements?’

‘It was on my desk when I arrived.’

‘What did it say?’

‘Cohen took the train to Brighton, had a drink in a pub, then went to call on someone with whom he’d once worked.’

‘Was it Howard Fine, by any chance?’

‘You’ve guessed it, Joe.’

‘What do you conclude from that?’

‘When he talked about Fine, the manager wasn’t telling the truth. Either both of them were involved in a plot to kill Mr Stein, or they’re on — how shall I put it — intimate terms.’

‘I thought that Cohen was a married man.’

‘It’s often the case,’ said Marmion. ‘When I was in uniform, I helped to raid a club in Soho. We went looking for pornography but what we found was a club for effete gentlemen. Almost all of them turned out to have wives and children.’

‘Are you keeping the manager under observation?’

‘Oh, yes — and I’ve got a pair of eyes on Howard Fine as well.’

‘What motive could they have for killing Mr Stein?’

‘One may well emerge, Joe,’ said Marmion. ‘What they did have were means and opportunity. Cohen had the keys to the shop, after all. He could have let someone in surreptitiously at night.’

Keedy was dubious. ‘I don’t see Fine as a killer somehow.’

‘Looks can deceive. Think how many respectable-looking men have turned out to be ruthless murderers — Dr Crippen, for instance.’

As they talked, they continued to flick through the pages so that Keedy could study the photographs. Eventually, he slapped his hand down on a particular page.

‘That’s him, Inspector,’ he said.

‘Are you sure?’

‘If I had any, I’d bet my life savings on it.’

‘You were right about him having a record and it’s not a very pretty one — assault and battery, malicious wounding and armed robbery. He was only released from Pentonville last year.’

‘Do we pay him a visit?’

‘No,’ said Marmion, studying the face in the photograph, ‘we have to catch him in the act of breaking the law. You meet up with him and that other man on Friday. If this True British League is really bent on destruction,’ he went on, looking up, ‘we’ll be standing by to arrest the whole damn lot of them.’

‘Does that include me, Inspector?’

Marmion slapped him jocularly on the back. ‘You’ll be the first we put the cuffs on.’

Miriam Stein was tugged repeatedly between relief and apprehension. Delighted that her daughter was back home, she feared for Ruth’s mental condition. It was not in her nature to be so headstrong. In the space of a week, however, the girl had contemplated suicide, then climbed out of her bedroom and fled. Miriam had been overjoyed when a uniformed policeman brought Ruth safely back to Golders Green the previous evening. She’d also been amazed at how excited Ruth had been, accepting the strictures of her mother and her uncle with a quiet smile on her face. It was only now, after a late breakfast together, that Miriam was able to probe deeper into the mystery of what had happened.