It took four turns on the bell pull and several sharp knocks at the front door before anyone answered. Wright Watson tut-tutted and paced up and down the entrance steps while waiting for a reply. Detective Sergeant Makepeace knew his commanding officer well enough to recognize when he was in a bad mood; not that it would have been difficult on this occasion. The train journey from Hartley to Leeds Central (changing at Halifax) was the tell-tale sign. Few words had been exchanged once the two men had left the police station. By the time they arrived at Grindrod’s factory in the north of the town, the trickle of phrases had dried up completely.

Makepeace comforted himself with the fact that Watson had black phases from time to time. Because of the years they had worked together, the Detective Serge...

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