IV

AT INGARD HOUSE

ON THE EIGHT o’clock radio news that Monday morning there was a substantial piece about an exciting police chase in Essex – understandably, on a rather lonely road. At times the police car had had to go at over 100 mph. The other car was ultimately forced to stop, and a young man ran off into a field. He was pursued and caught, and would appear at Southend Magistrates’ Court charged with taking and driving away a Jaguar car without the owner’s consent from the Foulness road on Saturday afternoon. It was understood that the car was one reported to have been stolen some days earlier from a car park in Colchester. Later Seddon telephoned to tell me that a young man – actually a volunteer from the Metropolitan police – had duly appeared at Southend, and had been remanded for a week. The Essex police had opposed bail, and he had been remanded in custody. He did not, however, have to stay in prison for long, for, without any publicity, a judge in chambers granted bail, and he slipped off home. Seddon also told me that a team of telephone engineers had already started work to improve the service to Foulness. There was a real engineer among them, and my suggestion about telephone work had paid a bonus, for he had installed a phone in the hole, and the watchers now had a direct link with New Scotland Yard.

*

I had nothing much to do before reporting to the banker at four o’clock. I used the time by moving from the Temple to Peel Square – not a formidable job, for it required only a suitcase and a taxi. I thought I’d try the service lunch, and had an omelette and a half bottle of a creditable claret sent up to my room.

Visitors to Sir Geoffrey Gillington were well looked after. I reported promptly, and his secretary appeared almost at once to conduct me to the presence. The banker sat at an enormous desk surrounded by acres of carpet, in a room hung with what looked like Dutch Old Masters, though I suppose they may have been reproductions.

There was another man with Sir Geoffrey, and he introduced him as Mr James Henniker, of Pooley, Handyside and Henniker, the accountants. ‘Mr Henniker is now the senior partner,’ he said. ‘With Sir Edmund Pusey’s agreement I have taken him into our confidence. You, Mr Mottram, are one of our Assistant General Managers, concerned with internal auditing. I wrote to Mr Desmond Ingard as we arranged, and I met him and another member of his board this morning. In the circumstances they could hardly refuse our request for a special audit – indeed, they appeared to welcome it, saying that although they were going through a difficult time they had nothing to hide, and were confident that the bank would wish to continue its support.’

‘I had a long talk with Sir Geoffrey before you came,’ said Mr Henniker. ‘From what he tells me there is abundant reason for a special audit, and my own work will be perfectly genuine. I shall wish to see records of all dealings since the last formal audit, to ascertain the group’s cash position and to form an opinion of its prospects of meeting its debt to the bank within reasonable time. I shall have with me two clerks, and, of course, yourself. Sir Geoffrey has arranged for us to be provided with two rooms in the Ingard offices – and I suggest that I and my clerks occupy one room, and you the other. I shall not tell my clerks that there is anything out of the ordinary about this audit, and they will accept you quite naturally as the special representative of the bank. From time to time I shall send one or other of them to you with documents to examine, and it would be helpful, I think, if you looked in periodically to study our work in progress.’

‘I have explained to Mr Ingard that you may need to discuss various matters with departmental heads in the group,’ Sir Geoffrey added. ‘That will give you, I hope, all the freedom of action you need.’

‘You have both done admirably,’ I said. ‘For reasons which I won’t go into now, I think we may be specially interested in all matters relating to the Ingard group’s involvement with Winter Marsh – the ex-Ministry of Defence land which you mentioned, Sir Geoffrey, the other day. Perhaps Mr Henniker would bear that particularly in mind.’

‘I shall do that in any case,’ Mr Henniker said. ‘From what I know of the previous accounts the Winter Marsh investment – or error of judgment – is one of the main causes of the group’s present financial difficulties.’

Sir Geoffrey rang through to his secretary to ask her to bring in tea, and we chatted over tea for a few minutes. I found myself liking Henniker – he was a few years older than I am, and had served in the war as an AA gunner. He had a dryness of manner which concealed a pleasant sense of humour, and he would be, I thought, exceptionally shrewd. ‘Mr Ingard is expecting us at nine thirty in the morning,’ he said as we got up to go. ‘I suggest that we meet here at nine and go along to Ingard House together.’

‘That seems fine,’ I said.

*

We reported to the reception desk at Ingard House and the girl there rang through to Mr Ingard. There were four of us in our party – Henniker and I, a young man introduced to me as Tom Spalding, and a girl of about twenty-two – also an articled clerk – called Diana Robinson. Ingard kept us waiting for nearly ten minutes – pompous ass, I thought. Then his instructions came through. Henniker and I were to be taken up to Mr Ingard’s room, Spalding and Miss Robinson were to go to the offices allotted to us on the second floor. A girl appeared to take Henniker and me in tow. Spalding and Miss Robinson were sent to the lift, told to get out at the second floor, turn right, and go to the rooms numbered 207 and 208.

We did not go up in the same lift, but were taken to another one, apparently for the use of directors only. The protocol at Ingard House was far more elaborate than at the head office of the bank.

Sir Geoffrey Gillington’s office had suggested dignified good taste. Ingard’s room was lavish. There was a carpet into which you seemed to sink several inches, an ornate desk in the style of the French Empire, a huge couch, upholstered in grey and scarlet, and a number of big soft armchairs in the same pattern. A cocktail bar, with two or three bar stools in front of it, took up the whole of one corner. Ingard was affability itself. ‘I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting, gentlemen,’ he said, ‘but I had an important telephone call from Geneva – a highly profitable call, I might add.’ He laughed. ‘In the circumstances I felt that you would prefer me to make some money.’

He was a big man, probably not yet fifty, though going a little to seed. He was not actually wearing morning dress, but gave the impression that he was, with impeccably creased trousers, a jacket cut rather long, and a dark red carnation in his buttonhole. His hair was almost black, without a trace of grey, and he had one of those smooth, delicately bluish chins, which suggest the use of expensive after-shave preparations on a virile male skin.

‘Mr Henniker, of course, everyone in the City knows. And I believe we met once at a Stock Exchange luncheon.’ He bowed. ‘Mr – er – Mottram, is it?’ He glanced at a piece of paper. ‘I’m afraid I don’t know. Are you one of those horrid men who bounce cheques?’ He laughed at his own pleasantry.

‘Not really,’ I said, ‘though doubtless it could happen on my recommendation.’

Henniker came to my rescue. ‘Mr Mottram is among the ablest of the bank’s internal auditors,’ he said. ‘It is not a job that brings him into the public eye, but, believe me, he is one of the most trusted officers of the bank.’

‘Gentlemen – please! You must forgive my little joke.’ Ingard sensed that he had struck a wrong note. ‘You will understand that this is not the happiest of occasions for me. My group has nothing to be ashamed of, but, like everybody else nowadays, we suffer from a general shortage of cash. I’ll be absolutely open with you – we do have difficulties over cash, but when you see the business we’ve got lined up . . . well, this time next year I’ll expect the bank to be standing me a slap-up lunch! Oysters, gentlemen – I’ll provide the oysters, and it’ll be the oysters that pay off the overdraft.’

‘Oysters?’ I said, puzzled.

‘Yes, oysters – going back to Roman times. You know that land I bought off the Ministry of Defence? Winter Marsh, it’s called, near Foulness. Well, I daresay you thought I’d come unstuck, when the new airport wasn’t built. Not my way, gentlemen. Those creeks on Winter Marsh are about the best oyster grounds in Europe! I’m telling you this in confidence, but you’d find out about it when you go through the books. We’re going to make so much money out of oysters that the £5 million or so you’ve got against me will look like chicken feed. That’s why I’m not frightened of your report.’

‘I don’t doubt your business ability,’ Henniker said tactfully, ‘and it may well be as you say. But you will appreciate – I think you do appreciate – that the bank is concerned about the immediate financial position.’

‘We have a responsibility to our shareholders, and to our depositors,’ I said. ‘Of course, we also feel a high degree of responsibility to our customers – that is why we are here. The bank has no wish to call in its loans, but we must satisfy our board that your present trading justifies the considerable sum involved. We shall conduct our audit as quickly, and as unobtrusively, as possible.’

‘I’ve instructed my Chief Accountant to have everything ready for you.’ Ingard was still remarkably good humoured. ‘If you have other inquiries you wish to make I’m sure that he or I can satisfy you. I have another important foreign call coming through in a few minutes, so, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll hand you over to the Chief Accountant now.’ He lifted a telephone on his desk.

‘There’s just one more thing, Mr Ingard,’ I said. ‘From my own examination of your account with us it would appear that the shipping company in your group – the T and T line – is the major provider of cash for your present business. I should like to discuss one or two things with the managing director of the shipping company.’

‘You can’t see Andrew Stavanger, because he’s away at the moment. He’s getting on, you know, and – gentlemen of your age will understand – he had a bad war, Arctic convoys and all that. Lost his only brother, too.’ He bowed his head slightly, as if in silent prayer. ‘He is, of course, a director of the group, and we feel that he is entitled to every consideration. I am afraid that he has been far from well for several months. His deputy, Oscar Lennis, has in fact been largely running the business for the past year. He will certainly be able to tell you anything you need to know. When you wish to see Lennis, will you please telephone my secretary? I’m afraid I shall be very much tied up for the rest of today. And now, if you will permit me, I’ll ask Marshall, my Chief Accountant, to look after you. Please make yourselves at home. If you would care to lunch in the directors’ dining room, just let my secretary know.’ He spoke into the telephone, and a moment later an elderly man, wearing thick glasses, came into the room. This was Marshall, the Chief Accountant. Ingard introduced us, and we went with the accountant to his own office.

*

Mr Marshall’s office was very different from Ingard’s. Far from being luxurious, it was almost poky, with dark green linoleum instead of carpeting, and the walls lined with steel filing cabinets instead of a cocktail bar. And Mr Marshall was very different from Ingard – where Ingard had been expansive, he was withdrawn, and where Ingard had been cocksure and flamboyant, he seemed almost nervous. I glanced at my watch. ‘Look,’ I said to Henniker, ‘I’d rather like to have a word with Mr Lennis before lunch. Could you carry on here while I look into the shipping side of things?’

‘That seems sensible – we don’t want merely to duplicate each other’s work,’ Henniker said.

‘Where can I find Mr Lennis?’ I asked the Chief Accountant.

‘It’s quite easy – they’re on the next floor down. You can use the lift, of course, but I think it’s really quicker to walk. I’ll ring through and tell him that you’re coming.’

‘That’s very good of you.’ And to Henniker I said, ‘Shall I collect you here?’

Henniker looked at the filing cabinets, and at a huge pile of folders on Mr Marshall’s desk. ‘If you don’t mind,’ he said. ‘I think it would be better if I worked through for the rest of today. Mr Marshall will have most of the information I want, and I’ll put Miss Robinson and young Spalding on the job of checking things. If Mr Marshall will excuse me, I don’t think I’ll bother with lunch. Suppose we meet in the offices downstairs at, say, five o’clock?’

‘That’ll be fine,’ I said.

‘Won’t you be having lunch in the directors’ room?’ Mr Marshall asked, a little plaintively.

‘It’s awfully good of you, but I think I’d better not,’ I said. ‘I may have to go back to the bank for an hour or so – there’ll be all sorts of things piling up on my desk. And I can’t help realising what a strain we must be on you.’

*

I found Lennis’s room quite easily. The shipping company seemed to have most of the floor below that occupied by Ingard, Marshall and the board. It had its own inquiry desk, and a girl took me to Lennis at once. He was in a room labelled ‘Managing Director’, and I wondered where Andrew Stavanger worked.

Lennis was more Ingard than Marshall – fortyish, well-groomed, and smooth. He pressed a button on his desk, and an exceedingly attractive girl came in with two cups of coffee. ‘I generally have one about now,’ he said, ‘and I thought, perhaps, you’d join me.’ To the girl he said, ‘Don’t put any calls through till I tell you, Inez.’

He motioned me to a big armchair in front of his desk. ‘Bad business?’ he asked.

‘Not necessarily,’ I said. ‘Banks have to do this all the time. You’ve got a fair bit of our money tied up at the moment, and naturally we’ve got to see that it’s all right. But you know as well as I do how banks hate having to call in loans – we’re much happier to keep our customers in business. I don’t know how familiar you are with the accounts of the group as a whole.’

‘Not all that familiar,’ he said. ‘The shipping business is rather separate from the rest of the group, and it’s a whole-time job, believe you me.’

‘I don’t doubt it. I’m particularly interested in the shipping side because it seems to provide most of the group’s cash flow at the moment.’

‘We don’t do so badly. Even when there’s precious little money about people still have to eat, and our ships do a steady bread and butter trade in produce from the Continent. And we go to the Mediterranean and North Africa. Recently I’ve begun to develop trade with West Africa, too. I’ve a lot of hopes there.’

‘Do you run the shipping business, Mr Lennis? We have, of course, a list of all the directors of the various companies in the group in our records, and a Mr Andrew Stavanger is listed as managing director of the shipping company.’

Lennis hesitated a bit. ‘Well, he is and he isn’t,’ he said. ‘Andrew Stavanger is a fine shipping man – his family owned the fleet before he sold out to the group. We certainly owe a lot to him. But – between you and me – he’s really past it. He’s liable to behave very strangely, too. There’s a history of drink, you know – he lives alone since he lost his wife, there’s a daughter, but she’s married and they don’t have much to do with each other. Andrew is really a seaman – his heart’s at sea, not in a shipping office. He’s a master mariner in his own right, and he’s always been well thought of in the fleet. He goes off in one or other of the ships whenever he feels like it, which is pretty well all the time, nowadays. He’s away now – let me see—’ he consulted a big diary on his desk – ‘yes, he sailed on the Josephine T at the end of last week, on a voyage to the Canaries.’

There was a knock at the door, and an elderly woman – at least, elderly by the standards of the other women in the office, though she was probably not much over fifty – came in with a letter.

‘Oh, I’m sorry, Mr Lennis,’ she said, noticing me. ‘But you said you wanted this letter to go off this morning, so I’ve brought it for you to sign.’

‘Can’t you see I’m busy?’ He spoke roughly. ‘Oh, all right, if you’ve done it I might as well sign it. Give it to me.’

He read the typescript quickly, signed it, and gave it back to her. ‘Now keep out until I send for you,’ he said.

‘Sorry about that silly interruption,’ he said to me when she’d gone. ‘You were asking about Andrew Stavanger?’

‘Yes. It’s not just idle curiosity. You will understand that one of the most important things to a bank in determining its loan policy is the continuity of management in a firm. We have a special shipping section, and I was talking to them before I came here. They tell me that Mr Stavanger has a magnificent record, and is very highly thought of in shipping circles – indeed, they went so far as to say that they’d recommend the bank’s board to support him through thick and thin. Now you tell me that he no longer plays much part in the business. We didn’t know that, and it could be a material factor in deciding our policy towards the Ingard group.’

He didn’t much like this. ‘That’s a bit hard,’ he said indignantly. ‘People don’t go on for ever – not even in banks! I’d be the last person to say anything against old Stavanger – he brought me into the company, and I owe a lot to him. But I’ve been virtually managing the fleet for some time now, and we show a consistent record of profitable operation. In fact, we’re more profitable now than we were in Andrew’s day, because of that new trade with West Africa I’ve worked up.’

‘Forgive my asking, Mr Lennis, but what is your own background? Have you been in shipping all your life?’

‘No – but don’t hold that against me. One of the things that’s wrong with British shipping is that too much of it is in the hands of ancient mariners, dyed-in-the-wool shipping families that haven’t had a new idea since the days of sail. I was in the airfreight business before Stavanger brought me here – had my own small charter company. I met Stavanger before he joined up with Ingard. He’d had trouble over a dock strike in France, and had some perishable cargoes which he couldn’t deliver. I was able to help him out. When he joined Ingard and wanted a number two he thought of me and asked me to come in with him. My own business was all right, but I had the usual trouble of small charter companies – not enough capital. I was able to sell out quite profitably to one of the bigger air-freight operators. Stavanger offered generous terms, so I came across. I haven’t regretted it – nor has he. I’ve held his hand gently and tactfully from the start.’

‘It can’t be a very satisfactory situation. Why doesn’t Mr Stavanger retire?’

‘I wish he would. But he’s got nothing to retire to – except the whisky bottle. He’s got no family except the daughter and he doesn’t get on with her. And he’s got quite a big holding in the group – he sold out in return for stock. No, I’m afraid we’ve got to go on carrying him. Fortunately he doesn’t turn up very often these days. It doesn’t cost much for the ships to take him as a passenger, and it keeps him happy.’

I didn’t think I could learn much more for the moment. So I thanked Mr Lennis for his frankness, explained that I had to go back to the bank to deal with some work, and departed. There seemed nothing I could usefully add to whatever Henniker might be doing, and as it was getting on for half past twelve I decided to find a pub and a sandwich. I was careful to find them some distance from Upper Thames Street.

After my sandwich and a drink, I got a cab to my own office in Whitehall, and rang Seddon. He’d just spoken to Detective Inspector Balfour in his hole on the Foulness road, but there wasn’t much news on that front. Two men in army clothes – possibly my two – could be seen about the camp from time to time, and Balfour thought that there might also be a third. There were no rifles in evidence. He couldn’t see what the men were doing most of the time, because they were either inside or hidden by buildings. They’d spent part of the morning carrying boxes of some sort from one hut to another, apparently fairly heavy boxes, because it took both men to carry them. Short of raiding the place, there was no way of finding out what the boxes contained. ‘Dull for the telephone men, I’m afraid,’ I said, ‘but try to keep them in good heart. We want that place kept under constant observation. Ask them to look out particularly for any signs of dredging for oysters, in the creeks, or just offshore.’

‘Did you say “oysters”?’ Seddon asked.

‘Yes – the things you eat with brown bread and stout. Can’t explain now, but they may turn out to be important. Two more things – will you find out everything you can about a man called Oscar Lennis, Assistant Managing Director of the T and T shipping company, and formerly in the air-freight business on his own account? And can you join me for a bit of breaking and entering some time this evening?’

‘Lennis – can do, certainly. Breaking and entering – well, Peter, I’ve still got three years to go before my pension, and I’d like to keep it.’

‘You can get a search warrant if you like, as long as you do it discreetly and nobody else knows about it. I want to look over Andrew Stavanger’s flat in Stepney. And I’d like you to be there, too – because of your experience, you know.’

‘Come off it, Peter. OK, what time do you want?’

‘I thought about eight o’clock. Say we met around seven, we could have some sort of meal.’

‘Stavanger’s flat is in Yardarm Square. There’s a nice little pub called the Eight Bells in Yardarm Street, running into the square. I can be there by seven.’

‘Fine – see you in the bar of the Eight Bells, then. And remember to bring a jemmy.’

*

I got back to Ingard House a bit after four o’clock, and went up to rooms 207–8, the offices allotted to us for the purposes of our audit. I found Henniker and the two clerks together in 207, and Henniker said that they’d left 208 for me. ‘That’s handsome of you, but considering our relative workloads it scarcely seems fair,’ I said. ‘Anyway, if you can tear yourself away, could we both go in 208? There are several things on which I need your advice.’

After a word with his clerks, Henniker came with me into the other room. ‘How have you got on?’ I asked.

‘On the whole, badly,’ he said. ‘I suspect that the whole concern is insolvent, but the group accounts are in a fearful muddle. I’m sorry for the Chief Accountant – the job seems quite beyond him, but it’s not altogether his fault. There seem to be two boards – like the “dignified” and “efficient” parts of Bagehot’s English constitution. There’s a main board, with various part-time notables to give it respectability, and an Executive Committee of Directors, consisting of Ingard and one or two of his pals, who actually deal with what goes on. The committee is supposed to prepare reports for the board, but the reports read more like glowing company prospectuses, and there are various discrepancies between what they say and what seems actually to have happened. There’s a portfolio of properties at the high values of a couple of years ago. There’s been no recent valuation, and if there were the shares would collapse overnight.’

‘What about the oysters?’

‘Yes, there’s something in the oyster story, but it’s hard to make out what. There’s a glowing prospectus about using Winter Marsh for oyster farming, and a Declaration of Intent by a group called Varsov International to put up £5 million in cash for a half share in yet another company called Ingard Oyster Farms. But there’s no evidence that a penny has been actually paid – or that Varsov International, whose headquarters appear to be somewhere in the Caribbean, even possesses £5 million.’

‘Have you been able to find out what that £300,000 cheque to Irwin Osnafeld was for?’

‘Well, it’s entered in the accounts as “commission”, but I’m still trying to find out what it was commission for. Marshall seems to think it relates to the oyster farm negotiations, but as no money has yet been received on that account I don’t see why commission had to be paid in advance, particularly at a time when the group is pressed for cash. That’s one of the troubles. Marshall is called Chief Accountant, but half the time he doesn’t really know what’s happening. Ingard just gives him instructions, and he does what he’s told without any explanation. Then he tries to work out what this or that payment actually relates to, and since he doesn’t know the accounts get into a muddle.’

‘Can’t he ask Ingard?’

‘I put the same point to him. He was quite shocked. Apparently you just don’t ask Desmond Ingard about anything.’

*

There was a knock on the door, and when I said ‘Come in’ the middle-aged woman who’d been treated so rudely by Lennis in the morning appeared hesitantly.

‘Mr Mottram?’ she asked in not much more than a whisper.

‘Yes, and this is Mr Henniker. We are just auditors.’

She made sure that the door was properly shut, and then said, still speaking in a whisper, ‘There have been a lot of rumours in the office. I’m sure it’s very wrong of me to trouble you, but I am so worried, and I don’t know what else to do. Mr Lennis and his secretary have gone home. Nobody knows I’ve come here. I hope you won’t mind.’

‘You haven’t told us your name,’ I said, as gently as I could.

‘Oh, me – I’m Susan Macdonald. I am, or I was, for really I don’t know, Mr Stavanger’s secretary. That’s what I’m so worried about.’

I had a vivid recollection of the incident that morning. ‘You mean, you think that Mr Lennis may be trying to get rid of you?’

‘Oh, that – no I’m not worried about that. I don’t want to stay here, and if it weren’t for Mr Stavanger I’d have gone long ago. You see, I was with him in the old days, before our ships were taken over by this horrible group. I don’t know why he let them – at least, I do, because of his daughter.’

‘How does she come into it?’

‘Kate? Well, it’s because he was so fond of her. Please, may I sit down?’

‘Forgive me.’ Henniker moved a chair for her, and she sat on the extreme edge of it. She went on, as if talking to herself as much as to us, ‘My father was a ship’s master, for old Mr Stavanger. His ship was turned into a minesweeper in the war, and he went down with her off the east coast. It was old Mr Stavanger who paid for me to have a good secretarial course, and when I’d qualified he gave me a job in the shipping office. He was like that – so was Mr Andrew – thought of the fleet as part of his family. When Mr Andrew came back from the war old Mr Stavanger was dead. There was a lot to do, and Mr Andrew made me his secretary. It was a happy time. We worked hard and there was a lot to worry about, but the fleet was still a family. There was the Masters’ Room on the ground floor – they took it out to put in the new directors’ lift – and whenever one of our ships docked in London her master would come for a drink and a chat with Mr Andrew – like a sort of club, it was.

‘Then Kate got working on her father. She was the only child, you see – he’d no son – and she married Mr Carolan and moved in high society. Mr Ingard was a friend of hers. She kept telling her father that there was no future for an independent shipping company, there’d be no one to run it after he’d gone, and that the modern thing was to bring the company into a big group. That way – or so she said – it would be protected in a way it couldn’t be on its own, because the group had so many different irons in the fire.

‘Mr Andrew didn’t like it – he used to talk to me about it, and say how unhappy he was. But she was his child, and after her mother died he felt she was all he had. What about the ships, I used to say – they were his children, too. But he couldn’t see it like that. If Kate wanted something, she had to have it. So Kate won, and Mr Ingard got the ships. He got a lot of Mr Andrew’s money, too – I know a lot more than people think I do – and instead of being put aside for new ships it went into silly things like this grand building and I daresay for fat salaries for some people.

‘It wasn’t so bad at first. Mr Andrew still ran the ships, and everybody loved him. But then Mr Lennis was brought in, he kept saying that all our ways were old-fashioned, and when he wanted something done he could get round Mr Andrew by going straight to Mr Ingard. Then old Captain Bowman, the senior master in the fleet, had a row with Mr Lennis. Mr Andrew supported Captain Bowman, but he was overruled by Mr Ingard and Captain Bowman had to go. Then three more of our old masters went – now there are only two, Captain Lomax and Captain Illingworth, left. The others are all Mr Lennis’s men.

‘And then, about four months ago, Mr Andrew stopped coming to the office. He didn’t say a word to me, which was quite unlike him. Mr Lennis sent for me and said that Mr Andrew was feeling run down, and had gone for a cruise in one of the ships, the Emily T. I kept expecting a letter or a postcard from him, but nothing came. Well, I knew the movements of the ships, and the Emily was Captain Illingworth’s ship, and of course I knew him. So I went to meet her when she docked, and Captain Illingworth said he knew nothing of Mr Andrew. I asked Mr Lennis about this and he was quite cross. Said he must have made a mistake and it was the Cynthia T. The Cynthia had one of the new masters whom I didn’t know, so I couldn’t do anything. But of course I knew where she was, and that she was calling at Genoa. I wrote to Mr Andrew there, but I don’t know if he ever got the letter, for I never had any answer.

‘So it’s gone on – always on one ship or another, and when one comes home without him, he’s transhipped somewhere abroad.

‘Now Mr Andrew was always very close to Kate. He used to call at her home most evenings and if she was out of London he’d always telephone. I’ve known Kate since she was a child, and about a month ago I went to see her. She was quite nice to me, gave me a cup of tea, and said she knew about her father, that he was all right, and that I mustn’t worry. She said that it was partly because of drink – that all the Stavangers drank, and that her father knew he was drinking too much, but that he never drank at sea. So by keeping out of the way and staying at sea he hoped to put himself right.

‘But Mr Mottram, it isn’t true! Old Mr Stavanger and Mr Andrew both liked a glass in the Masters’ Room, but neither of them ever took a drop too much. If you’d known them, you’d know this. Please, you must believe me! I know I’m doing wrong to bother you, but I’m so worried I don’t know what else to do. Please, can you find out from someone just where Mr Andrew is?’

Her fingers worked at a small lace handkerchief, twisting and untwisting it in an extremity of nervous tension.

‘Of course you’ve done nothing wrong,’ I said. ‘Mr Andrew would be grateful for your loyalty. I’m afraid we can’t help you at the moment – we’ve been told simply that Mr Andrew is away from the office. But we’ll do our best to find out, and I’ll let you know as soon as I do. It might, perhaps, be easier to get in touch with you outside the office. Could you let me have your home address and telephone number?’

‘I have a little flat in Earls Court – 31c Duke of Clarence Gardens. The phone is 693 1871.’

‘Thank you. And don’t be in the least distressed about coming to us. We’ll do everything we can to help.’

‘You are being very kind. I suppose I’m turning into a foolish old woman. If I knew that Mr Andrew wasn’t coming back, I’d give in my notice tomorrow. I’ve lived carefully, and I’ve got some savings – and old Mr Stavanger left me £2,000 in his will – because of my father, you see. I’ve never touched a penny of that. I’d go back to Scotland, I think. My father came from the Clyde, and I’ve still got some cousins near Dunoon. It’s funny how things happen. It all seems to go back to that morning when Mrs Millings got such a dreadful shock.’

She was chattering nervously, but now at least with relief. I saw Henniker glance at his watch, and I could sympathise with him. But it was hard to turn this very unhappy woman out. ‘Who is Mrs Millings?’ I asked politely.

‘She’s one of the office cleaners,’ Miss Macdonald said. ‘Normally they’re gone when we get to the office, but sometimes they’re still here, and sometimes we meet them in the evenings, if we’re working late. On that morning Mrs Millings was late because she’d seen a body in the Thames while crossing Southwark Bridge. She’d called the police, and had to wait while they took statements, and things. It was quite an excitement in the office. I remember that day very well because it was the first day that Mr Andrew didn’t come.’

‘My father was a doctor,’ I said, ‘and I remember the day he got his Fellowship of the Royal College of Physicians. He telephoned to tell my mother, and she told me. Now I remember all that because it was the day I had a tooth knocked out by a cricket ball.’

Miss Macdonald was clearly pleased to have found someone ready to share reminiscences. She was much happier. The handkerchief had gone back into her handbag. She got up, we shook hands, and I escorted her to the door.

‘I thought that woman would never go,’ Henniker said.