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them?’
    Despite the irreverence of this utterance, Thornton knew that Darke was not jesting. The inspector shook his head. ‘I must admit I have never given it any thought. I think I would need to see one before I could pass judgement.’
    With a sigh of satisfaction, Luther Darke leaned back in his chair, both hands cradling his whisky glass. ‘It is possible that could be arranged.’
    The policeman looked shocked.
    Darke smiled. ‘Let me tell you my story.’

    Theday following the angel’s visitation, Cornelius Hordern was in a notably more cheerful mood than usual. And this was in spite of the fact that Sarah had pestered him to have stern words with Sadie, the youngest housemaid, whose courting habits were causing her to be out late in the evenings of her days off, with the result that she was sullen and lethargic in the mornings.
    ‘She is young, my dear. Do not deny the girl her youth,’ he said gently, pulling his chair closer to the fire.
    ‘We must not indulge these girls, Father. Give them an inch … you know as well as I that I am a supporter of women’s rights. But if women are to be taken seriously, they must respect their responsibilities and not shirk them in favour of a kiss and a cuddle with one of the village lads.’
    Cornelius Hordern gazed at his daughter. How unlike her mother she was. Despite a passing resemblance in looks, the brusqueness of her demeanour and the lack of generosity of spirit destroyed any true filial resemblance. ‘I will speak to her,’ said Hordern with resignation.
    As it turned out, some hours later Sadie tapped on the old man’s study door and announced that he had a visitor. ‘Johnson has taken Miss Sarah into the village on a shopping expedition, sir, and it’s Clara’s day off. It was left up to me to answer the door, and there’s a gentlemen who says he is here on urgent business.’ The words tumbled out in an excited gasp, her animated face alive with emotion. Cornelius could not help but smile at this lively, natural creature. This was the girl with whom he was meant to remonstrate. Certainly here was no sulleness or lethargy.
    He smiled at her. ‘What does this gentleman want, Sadie?’
    ‘He didn’t say, but said I was to give you his card.’ She thrust an ivory visiting card into her master’s hand.
    Cornelius gazed at it. It bore the owner’s name and address in bold black print: ‘Doctor Sebastien Le Page, 13 Plover Mansions, Highgate, London’, and underneath, scrawled in pencil, the word ‘angel’. Cornelius Hordern felt his heart miss a beat.
    ‘You’dbetter show the gentleman in,’ he said, at length.
    Sebastien Le Page was a short, dapper man, with swarthy features, thinning black hair and a neatly trimmed moustache. Two large eyes peered out at the world through a carefully balanced pince-nez. He strode purposefully into the room and grasped Cornelius Hordern’s hand with a tight, icy grip.
    ‘I thank you most profusely for seeing me, sir,’ he said easily. The voice held a faint trace of a French accent.
    Hordern waved his visitor to a chair but did not reply until Sadie had left the room. ‘I would appreciate it if you could come straight to the point and explain the purpose of your visit.’
    Theatrically, Le Page attempted to hide a secret smile. ‘Cards on the table, eh? So sensible, I agree. Very well. I will not prevaricate. The matter is too important to be hindered by formal niceties. Last night you experienced a wondrous event. You were visited by a spiritual messenger.’
    Hordern found his mouth going dry and he could hardly summon the words in response. ‘How on earth can you possibly know that?’
    A self-satisfied smile lighted upon Le Page’s face. ‘Because it is my business … my calling to know such things. I am high priest of the Church of the True Resurrection.’
    Hordern shook his head. ‘That means nothing to me.’
    ‘Our disciples believe in a life beyond this life: a life of peace and harmony.