The Inspector opens the book and finds a blank page. She tuts at this unlikely misfortune, and tries again, finding another and another, and then realises as she riffles through that this is a publisher’s blank, a proof without any text at all. Annoying. She opens the others one by one, and realises that they are the same. She feels a puff of air and wonders wryly if the spectre of Diana Hunter is sniggering at her. She puts the blanks down and looks along the shelves for less deceptive editions.