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lacklustre, pathetically unimaginative. They spoke of lives lived on the edge of misery.
    And yet, somehow, they absorbed him.
    By the time he had read every last one of them, he realized that Salt had been gone an ominously long time.
    The door to the street opened and a stunted bundle of a woman shuffled in. Her clothes were dusty and old, but otherwise respectable. She could have been aged anywhere between sixty and eighty. She walked with a rolling, arthritic limp. Bad hips, Quinn speculated. A powerful unwashed smell came off her.
    She did not look at Quinn but walked straight up to the desk and pushed down the bell. She then sank on to a seat at the edge of the room with a sigh of relief.
    Now he had her face to read, and it was equally absorbing as the public notices. It was covered by the same grey patina of melancholy.
    He wondered what her story was; what succession of moments had made up her life and led her to this police station.
    He suddenly found it unutterably sad to think that someone might have committed a crime against her, however trivial.
    ‘Bad news, sir.’ It was Salt, back at last. ‘The
h-item
you requested cannot be found at present.’
    ‘How can that be?’
    ‘It is not where it ought to be. I am at a loss to explain it. However, I might add, I have not yet given up ’ope.’
    ‘It is a piece of material evidence. Its loss is a severe setback in the investigation. It does not reflect well on this station.’
    ‘I’m sure it will turn up, sir. It’s probably just misplaced. Someone ’as no doubt taken it, believing it to be . . .’
    ‘Believing it to be what, exactly?’
    ‘Superfluous. It’s just a cigarette case, after all. All it proves is that the fellow smoked.’
    ‘There might have been an inscription in it.’
    ‘Good heavens, sir! I believe there was! How did you know?’
    ‘Did you make a note of this inscription?’
    ‘Myself, sir, no.’
    ‘Did anyone?’
    ‘I do not believe it was thought necessary. No one here could make head nor tail of it. And I suppose the i-scription was there for anyone to read on the cigarette case itself, if they had so wanted to.’
    ‘But the cigarette case has now gone missing.’
    ‘Gone missing, yes. That’s a very good way of putting it.’
    At that point, Inspector Langdon emerged from the inner door to join Salt behind the counter. Quinn could not miss the flash of silver in his hand. ‘Is this what you are looking for?’
    ‘Good heavens, sir!’ cried Sergeant Salt, his amazement rather overdone, or so it seemed to Quinn. ‘You’ve found it!’ To Quinn, he added: ‘What did I tell you, sir? I knew it would turn up.’
    Quinn took the cigarette case from Langdon. ‘Remarkable.’
    ‘I cannot understand how you failed to find it, Salt,’ said Langdon. He was watching Quinn closely as he spoke. ‘It was exactly where it was supposed to be.’
    ‘I must have been looking in the wrong place, sir.’
    ‘Yes, that must be it. That or we will have to get your eyes examined by an ophthalmologist.’
    ‘There’s nothing wrong with my eyes, sir.’
    Quinn felt compelled to cut short the music hall act. ‘I see that it is empty. Can you confirm that it was empty when it was found?’
    ‘Of course. What are you suggesting?’
    ‘I merely wondered if whoever took the case may not also have smoked the cigarettes.’ Quinn held Langdon’s gaze.
    ‘No one took the case,’ insisted Langdon. ‘It was where it should be all the time.’
    Quinn gave an exaggerated nod. ‘I think you had better attend to this lady now, Sergeant. She has been waiting rather a long time.’
    ‘Ole Janet? Don’t you worry about Ole Janet, sir! She comes in every day. Mostlys just to get out of the rain.’
    ‘She rang the bell. She must have something she wishes to talk to you about.’
    ‘Yes, an’ I heard it a thousand times already. I i-spect she just wants to tell us about her cat. Her cat went missing, you see, sir. And she comes in every