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down—don’t you think so, sir?”
    Pike nodded; pride was something he could understand. He asked Fisher to send the next man in and lowered his head once more to the photographs with their sickening images of animalistic violence. This was only the first batch to be developed, and he had seen no sign yet of Lady Catherine. He wondered what secrets the others might reveal.

Chapter Four
    T he leadlight door opened in a kaleidoscope of glowing reds and greens. “Miss Dody! I sensed it was you ringing the bell. Welcome home!”
    “Hello, Annie, how have you been?” Dody smiled. She was determined not to let the incident at the mortuary mar her homecoming.
    “Oh, busy as always,” the maid said. “Miss Florence has had ever so many visitors lately.” Dody stepped through the porch into the black-and-white-tiled hall, removed her hat, gloves, and cape, and handed them to the parlour maid.
    She glanced around her at the stacks of boxes, typewriter cases, and other assorted office equipment. The potted palms, her sister’s pride and joy only last year, could barely be seen above the clutter.
    “Is my sister alone now?”
    “Yes, in the morning room, miss. Would you like to be announced?”
    “First, I would like a bath and a change of clothes. I’m afraid I’m dreadfully smelly. Please go to the kitchen and see if Cook can spare me some lemons. The juice is a powerful odour eliminator, and from now on, I’d like her to keep plenty in stock. And see that the clothes I am wearing are washed separately and also rinsed in a weak solution of lemon juice.” At the sight of the young maid’s wrinkled nose, Dody said, “This is something you’re going to have to get used to, Annie.”
    Annie sighed, “Yes, miss—would you like me to help you wash your hair?”
    “No, thank you, I can manage that.”
    “Very good, miss.” Annie took Dody’s damp outer garments to the cloakroom.
    Dody climbed the stairs to her third-floor rooms. Her suite consisted of a bedroom, a dressing room with attached bathroom, a small sitting room, and an ample study. The furnishings were minimal and the paintwork a soft buttery yellow, further enhanced by the pure light of the new electric system. Large sash windows added to the light, breezy ambience of the suite, and gave extensive views over the green velvet lawn and shrubberies of Cartwright Gardens.
    Annie unpacked the bags, drew Dody’s bath, and then left her alone. As she eased herself into the hot bath and inhaled the fragrant steam, Dody let out a sigh of contentment. Removing the odours of the mortuary was one sure way of putting the death of Catherine Cartwright behind her. Time enough for that later.
    Refreshed and feeling human again, she sat at her dressing table in her silk kimono and brushed out her damp hair. Upon brush stroke number twenty-three she heard rapid steps on thestairs. By stroke number twenty-eight her door was flung open after a knock of such brevity it might not have happened at all.
    “Dody!” Florence exclaimed, rushing to her sister’s arms. Dody stood up and clasped her tight, marvelling not for the first time at the enormous personality that exuded from a frame even more petite than her own. Florence held her at arm’s length and inspected her. “You look lovely and you smell delightful, not at all ghoulish. I must say, Annie got me quite worried when she said she found you on the doorstep smelling like a rotting whale.”
    “How very creative of her,” Dody said. “I doubt she’s ever smelled a rotting whale in her life.”
    Florence threw herself across Dody’s bed and lay on her stomach with her chin propped in her hands, her eyes unnaturally bright. “Tell me all about it then—what are your plans?”
    “Nothing’s really changed,” Dody replied as she returned to her dressing table. “I’m going back to my old post at the women’s hospital, but with my new qualification, I’ll be employed now and then by the Home Office for