‘Why has she come here, William?’ said Powerscourt softly. ‘She works as a schoolteacher, doesn’t she? What business has she got in the City? Unless, unless . . .’ A terrible thought struck Powerscourt. He remembered Burke’s shouted instructions to Sophie Williams’ friend to come and see him on Monday morning, a scowling Charles Harrison listening among the trees. What had happened to Richard Martin? Visions of another body flashed across his mind, this one only twenty-two years old.
‘William,’ he said quickly, ‘that young man, the one at the cricket match. Did he come to see you yesterday morning?’
‘He did not,’ said Burke, looking uneasy. There was a knock at the door.
‘Miss Williams, Mr Clarke, do come in. Please sit down. How can I help you?’ Burke smiled a cheerful smile.
Sophie Williams didn’t quite know how to put it. She stumbled into her story.
‘It’s Richard, sir, Richard Martin. He works at Harrison’s Bank. You met him at the cricket match.’ She stopped, gazing helplessly at the two older men in the room. ‘Last night he didn’t come home. He lives very close to me. Usually we see each other when he takes the neighbour’s dog for a walk. I checked again with his mother this morning. He still hadn’t come home. And when I checked at Harrison’s Bank just now, they said they hadn’t seen him yesterday or today. He’s disappeared.’
She began to cry, very quietly, tears dropping on to her dress.
‘Here,’ said Burke quickly, offering her an enormous handkerchief. ‘Try to compose yourself, Miss Williams. I’ll order some tea. This is terrible news.’
Powerscourt waited. James Clarke made consoling noises. Burke poured the tea.
‘Forgive me, Miss Williams,’ said Powerscourt, ‘please forgive me if I ask you some questions. I am an investigator. I am currently looking into the strange death of Old Mr Harrison, the man found floating in the Thames by London Bridge.’
Sophie looked terrified. Was her Richard also going to be killed and floated down the Thames? She looked as though the tears were about to start again.
‘Do not be alarmed, Miss Williams. I am sure nothing untoward has happened to Richard.’ William Burke was using his most emollient voice, the one he used for angry shareholders. ‘Lord Powerscourt is one of the finest investigators in the land. He is also my brother-in-law. I am sure he has no wish to frighten you.’
Burke looked meaningfully at Powerscourt. He hoped the domestic detail might help reassure the girl.
‘Could I ask you, Miss Williams,’ said Powerscourt, ‘if Richard talked to you at all about Harrison’s Bank? Friends often talk to each other about the details of their daily lives.’
‘Well, he did. He did, a little. He was always very circumspect.’ Sophie looked defensively at the two bankers who surrounded her.
‘Goodness me, Miss Williams,’ said James Clarke, ‘we’re all meant to keep things in confidence, but that doesn’t really apply to close friends and family.’
‘When he told you a little, Miss Williams,’ Powerscourt smiled at the girl, ‘can you remember what it was? A little can go a long way sometimes.’
There was a pause. James Clarke was admiring Sophie’s eyes. He had been very taken with them at the cricket match. Burke was pouring more tea. Powerscourt dropped a biscuit on the floor.
‘Richard’s been worried about what was happening at the bank for quite a long time,’ Sophie began.
‘How long a time would that be?’ said Powerscourt. ‘Weeks, or months?’
‘Months, I think. At first he wouldn’t give any details, he had to keep things confidential. Then, fairly recently, he said something quite important. I mean, I think now it may be important, but I didn’t then.’
She stopped and drank some tea.
‘We’d been out walking the next-door neighbour’s dog. Rufus, it’s called. Richard said it was the money. He said that most of the time in a bank money goes in and money goes out. But that at Harrison’s it was only going out. Richard said that in a couple of months’ time the bank wouldn’t have any money left. He seemed to think that you couldn’t have a bank with no money.’
Sophie looked at William Burke. ‘Can you have a bank with no money, Mr Burke? Can you? Or was Richard right?’
‘I fear Richard was right, Miss Williams,’ said Burke, frowning at such irregularities in banking custom. ‘You can’t have a bank with no money. It wouldn’t be a bank any more. It’s a contradiction in terms.’
‘Did Richard mention any changes that had taken place?’ Powerscourt spoke very gently. He thought he knew the answer. And if the answer was what he expected, then, at last, he might have the whole mystery in his hands. But he knew that almost everybody would say he was mad.
‘He did, Lord Powerscourt. How clever of you to know about it. He said that new people had come in and changed all the counting systems, the accounting systems, I’m not sure which.’
‘Did he say where they were from? From another bank in the City perhaps?’
Sophie Williams frowned. ‘I’m sure he said something about that. But for the moment I can’t just remember what it was.’
She closed her eyes, recreating the walk with Richard and Rufus the dog. Burke saw that Powerscourt was on tenterhooks for the reply. Nobody spoke.
‘That’s it,’ she said finally. ‘He said a new man had come in from Germany to change the counting or the accounting systems.’
‘You’re sure it was from Germany?’ Powerscourt was almost whispering.
‘I’m certain of it,’ said Sophie Williams, ‘absolutely certain.’
William Burke was watching Powerscourt very carefully. A very slight smile crossed his features.
‘Is that all you can remember of what Richard said, Miss Williams? Nothing more?’
‘That’s all I can remember for now,’ said Sophie sadly. ‘I know it isn’t very much. I can’t see how it’s going to help in finding him. You don’t think, Lord Powerscourt,’ she looked him full in the face, her bright blue eyes fearful of the future, ‘you don’t think he’s dead, do you?’
‘No, I don’t think so. Certainly not.’ Powerscourt wished he was as sure as he sounded. ‘Now then, there is something you can do to help us find him. As it happens I am on my way to see the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police on other business. It’s not every day, I assure you, that I travel between Mr Burke’s bank and the police headquarters, but this is such a day. If you would like to write a description of Richard, height, colour of hair, colour of eyes, what he might have been wearing going to work on Monday morning, I shall take it directly to the police.’ Powerscourt handed her a sheet of the bank’s best writing paper. He took a further three sheets himself and began writing furiously.
‘William, perhaps you could ask one of your people to take this one to Johnny Fitzgerald. This one is for Lady Lucy. Ah, Miss Williams, you have finished your description, I see. Thank you so much.’
‘Miss Williams,’ Burke was organizing the despatch of Powerscourt’s mail, ‘could I make a suggestion? Perhaps our Mr Clarke here could take you home. You must be exhausted after such a day. And thank you so much for coming to see us. Please tell Richard’s mother if you should see her that everything possible is being done to find him.’
James Clarke looked pleased with his late afternoon assignment. They heard him asking Sophie if she would like to see round the bank while she was there, if she had time, of course.
‘What about your third letter there, Francis? Where do you want that to go?’ Powerscourt looked grave. ‘This one is for you, William. If I am right, when we have the answers, we may have solved the entire mystery. God knows where you will have to go to find the information, but we must have it by tomorrow morning.’
Burke read the letter. Then he read it again. He stared at Powerscourt as if he had just arrived from another planet.
‘Francis,’ he spluttered, ‘you can’t be serious. This is monstrous, monstrous. I’ve never heard anything so terrible in my life. It can’t be true. Here in the City of London.’