There are other enquiry agents’ offices in the street, as well as a branch of Cox and Company, where Barker does some of his banking. Save a narrow gate at the back of the court, which is generally locked, there is no way of escape. That means that should anyone choose to step in our front door, we would have to go out the back into our private yard and over the wall. Barker is no Soho Vic, however, and would stand and fight rather than escape. During a recent case, a fellow had entered our chambers wielding a saber. I wondered what would happen if someone came in with a loaded shotgun, like the one that killed Victor Gigliotti. I thought this not because I was in one of my maudlin moods but because a man walked into our offices and I suddenly felt like a rat caught in a trap. It was the hokeypokey man we had seen on the street outside our residence. Were I a betting man, I would have put money that he was Marco Faldo. Jenkins invited him to wait and came to announce our visitor. Our clerk, who enjoyed proper form as much as Mac, carried a carte de visite on a salver.
