“No. I told it to you. Don’t you remember, I said yesterday I’d overheard two people talking about a female called Jane Finn? That’s what brought the name into your mind so pat.”

“So you did. I remember now. How extraordinary⁠—” Tuppence tailed off into silence. Suddenly she aroused herself. “Tommy!”

“Yes?”

“What were they like, the two men you passed?”

Tommy frowned in an effort at remembrance.

“One was a big fat sort of chap. Clean shaven, I think⁠—and dark.”

“That’s him,” cried Tuppence, in an ungrammatical squeal. “That’s Whittington! What was the other man like?”