“Very droll,” I said.

“But there is another visitor here to see Mr Douglas.”

So saying, Lestrade stepped back into the slim corridor to allow Margaret Douglas to squeeze into the tiny cell.

Seeing his lover, Andrew Douglas climbed off the bunk bed and hurried across to embrace her, after squeezing passed Conan Doyle and I.

They embraced for a few moments, then the redhead broke away from her lover and walked across to Conan Doyle and said, “Oh Mr Holmes, I was hoping that I might find you still here.”

“Why, what is the matter?” asked Conan Doyle.

The beautiful redhead carried, on her left arm, a handbag which was enormous, almost a cloth suitcase.   She delved down into the enormous bag for a few moments, her brow creasing in puzzlement as she tried first one compartment then another.

Finally, with a cry of success, she pulled out a crumpled sheet of note paper, which she handed to Conan Doyle.

The great author perused the single sheet for a moment, then his face began to cloud over and for only the second time I saw him show real emotion, anger at what he had read.

“What is it?” asked Andrew Douglas.

Conan Doyle first glanced toward the heavy iron door to make certain that Lestrade had closed the door behind him, then said, “It is a note from a Mr Wentworth, demanding five hundred pounds, in connection with the death of Ian Douglas!”

“Blackmail!” I asked, shocked.

Conan Doyle handed the sheet of note paper across to Andrew Douglas, who read it to himself, then said, “But this is outrageous!”

“That is what it would seem,” said Conan Doyle, in answer to my question.

“But we have nothing to hide!” insisted Andrew Douglas.   II had nothing to do with Ian’s death.”

“It could be something to do with your relationship with your sister-in-law,” I pointed out.

“But how can that hurt us?” asked Margaret.   “Now that Ian is dead, there is no one who it needs to be hidden from.”

“Except, of course, the police,” I said.

Andrew Douglas read the note a second time, then began to screw it up, until being stopped by Conan Doyle who said, “Evidence.   In case you decide to sue Mr Wentworth.”