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‘The failed robbery. When I first came here, I found it hard to believe that I was encountering the very same John Clay and that he had once again returned to his favourite modus operandi. And yet I quickly perceived it had to be the case. You will permit me to explain, Mr Clay?’

‘You can do what you like, sir. It is a matter of indifference to me.’

‘Very well. What we were presented with here was a barber’s shop that had been expressly designed to put off customers. Not only was the room filthy, but the barber’s own hair has been quite hideously cut. It would be a foolish soul who would allow the razor to come anywhere near their head in such a place or, for that matter, to purchase a hair tonic whose principal ingredient would appear to be glue. Why, I would be more comfortable at Sweeney Todd’s! But that, of course, was the idea. For Mr Clay had more pressing matters to attend to. Just across the road is the Chancery Lane Safe Deposit Company. For five years or more it has provided strongrooms for London’s wealthiest families.’

‘Six thousand safes,’ Clay muttered, sadly.

‘Mr Clay has been tunnelling beneath the road, intending to break into the vault. His associate, Archie Cooke, was a necessary part of the operation, providing two services. First, the appalling noise of his playing would cover the sound of the digging taking place beneath his feet. I was able to work out how far the tunnel extended by his position in the street. You are, I believe, almost there.’

‘Another few days and we will be done.’

‘He also provided a warning should anyone approach the shop.’

‘He stopped playing!’ I said.

‘Precisely. The silence would alert Mr Clay and give him time to climb back up to the surface. He could not, however, change his trousers. I saw at once that the knees were very creased — the very same clue that Holmes noticed last time, by the way.’

‘You asked if he was religious.’

‘He had clearly been kneeling. Had he been at prayer, the result might have been the same. As soon as he told me that he did not attend church, I knew that my conclusion was correct. On the last occasion, Mr Clay used an ingenious fabrication to persuade a London pawnbroker to absent himself from his premises. This present ruse shows that he has lost none of his inventiveness.’

John Clay bowed. There was something close to a smile on that strange, boyish face. ‘I have to say, sir, that it gives me some consolation to be arrested by the best. Sherlock Holmes last time and now you! Permit me to say, though, that I have never actually murdered anyone. There was a death, it is true, but we had both been drinking and the person in question fell. He was not pushed.’

‘I have no interest in your past, Mr Clay. It may be that you can escape arrest — or at least ameliorate your situation by assisting me. Can I trust you to be honest?’

‘You are speaking, sir, to a distant relative of Her Majesty the Queen — albeit one who has long been ignored. If it is possible to come to some sort of arrangement that will help me in my current difficulties, I will be true to my word.’

‘It is as I hoped. Let me tell you then how I found my way to Chancery Lane in the first place. My friend and I visited the scene of a number of vicious murders, Bladeston House in Highgate. The owner, one Scott or Scotchy Lavelle, had written the name of this establishment, and part of its address, in his diary.’

‘I knew Lavelle. I didn’t kill him. But I can’t say I was too sorry to hear of his demise.’

‘Is the name Jonathan Pilgrim familiar to you?’

‘No.’

‘He was an agent of Pinkerton’s, the American law-enforcement agency, and he also knew of your scheme. He was himself murdered but he left behind one of your advertising cards which also brought us here.’

There was a brief silence. Then Clay drew himself up. ‘Archie, old pal, make some tea. Gentlemen, can I invite you into my back parlour? I never thought I would be glad to meet two officers of the law, nor to have the bracelets snapped on my wrists, but I am glad to see you. Have tea with me and I will tell you my story. You have my word, on my royal blood, that it is my overwhelming desire to help!’

We repaired to the back room and sat on rickety chairs at a bare wooden table while Archie poked among the coals. Following Jones’s revelations, Clay seemed to have regained so much of his composure that the three of us could have been three old friends, discussing something that we had been planning from the start.

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