Outside the hall, Melissa Nunn said, "Where to, Sergeant?"

"We are going to the hospital, to see Sergeant Selman and the Pickersgills."

"I will check where he is, but he is probably there, I expect," Nunn responded. She talked into her personal radio.

In fact, Neil Selman was still waiting for the agreement of the doctor to interview Mr. Pickersgill. The policeman had already talked with Mrs. Pickersgill.

When Catrin arrived, she joined him just as the nurse came along, nodding it was finally agreed that they could go in. "Dr. Ansell says he seems free of signs of concussion, but take easy with him, he has had a shock."

The old man was partially bald and needed his remaining hair combing, but they weren't touching his scalp due to the bruising from the blow.

"Do you remember what happened, Mr. Pickersgill?" Sergeant Selman asked after introductions.

"Too right I do, I grabbed the frame of the Canaletto and the younger man hit me, it felt like my head exploded and I went down. That's what I remember."

The man looked exhausted but sounded feisty and irritable, Catrin noted.

"Did you get a good look at the man?"

"Yes I did, Sergeant, and of the other one as I moved over to grab the painting. But I don't know how to describe them, really.

Selman said, "A police artist is with your wife now, so when she is finished, she will come in here and help you."

The old man asked, "Can't I go in and do it with Eve? It might be easier for us."

Catrin said, "It's best if we get your impressions separately, Mr. Pickersgill; afterwards you can compare and improve them together.

"You are Welsh then?"

"Yes, Mr. Pickersgill."

He seemed to have forgotten Catrin talking to him while they were being introduced at the beginning of the interview. She had mentioned then that she worked with the police in London but came originally from Wales. The two sergeant exchanged glances; Selman hadn't missed it either. Catrin decided to mention it to the nurse or the doctor on the way out.

They pieced together his story, taking him gently back in sequence from arrival at the Hall to his departure in the ambulance, rather than have him jump around on the details.

He and his wife had gone upstairs in the elevator at the back of the gallery area and worked their way back through the long gallery to the front balcony. He was looking at the Canaletto and his wife at the "little painting" when the two men came up upstairs and went straight for the painting in front of Pickersgill.

"Between you and me, if they had been watching the stairs, they might have thought the top gallery was empty as no-one came up before them in the time we were up there. They didn't think about the lift."

He seemed pleased with his analysis. Catrin smiled to herself. So many witnesses morph into Sherlock Holmes in these situations.

"As he grabbed it from the wall I said, 'Hey you,' and pulled on the frame and he hit me."

Catrin said, "Which way did you fall, Mr. Pickersgill?"

"I don't know. Eve will know. When I came to I was on the left of the Canaletto position with a woman saying she was a nurse kneeling by me, telling me that I had to lie still."

That was why they swept right, picking up the Mellon and the miniature, thought Catrin; he was in the way on the floor.

"One of the bastards hit my Eve," he said. "You need to get them."

"We do, Mr. Pickersgill and we are trying to, I assure you." said Sergeant Selman.

Pickersgill kept on talking, "They will probably say I was a bloody fool for trying to stop him. The reporters, I mean."

He looked at Catrin. "Where did you get that scar then, can I ask?"

"In the line of duty. People have called me a bloody fool too for the same thing. Between you and me, we know better. You are a brave man, Mr. Pickersgill."

She saw the smile on his face and Melissa Nunn keeping her face neutral as she looked at the scar again; Catrin wondered if Melissa would question her about it later.

"Can I go and see my wife now?" he asked.

Selman said, "Yes, if the doctor says so, but after she has finished with the artist. Then I want you to do the same identification exercise with the artist as soon as possible. It will probably be the most useful thing you two can do to help us catch these men. You and Mrs. Pickersgill can help us a lot."

On the way out Catrin and Nunn popped in on Eve Pickersgill and she introduced herself. The bruising on the left side of her face was consistent with a heavy slap, catching the cheekbone with the fingers and the jaw-line with the palm she thought. Catrin wanted to know what Mrs. Pickersgill had done to make the thief hit her, but it would have to wait.

Catrin said that she would have some questions later, perhaps tomorrow, and said hello to Valerie, the artist. She took a peek over at the image development; it was looking good, it had detail she recognized, but she refrained from commenting at all.

Valerie worked now with a laptop and an electronic drawing pad rather than pencil and paper, she saw. When she had first met the police artist on a case she was drawing in the traditional manner, rejecting the early computer and identikit technologies. Now she was using a high-end computer system.

A paperback novel with a handmade lace bookmark was on the bed next to Mrs. Pickersgill. She had obviously been reading before the artist arrived, which was a good sign for her recovery.

Later, they were back at Norfolk Police HQ comparing the sketches each of the victims had produced with the mug shots of the Sloan brothers; Valerie had simply emailed the files over to Sergeant Selman.

Allowing for Mrs. Pickersgill having a better eye for detail, Catrin thought, they were consistent and bore a good resemblance to the suspects, the Sloan Brothers.

They had sent copies to Keith Marshall and were now talking to him on a speaker phone with Selman's boss, Inspector Geoffrey Tyler, also with them in the room. Catrin would occasionally look at Nunn. She was silent, totally absorbed in the investigation and the discussions.

"Keith, these are close enough I think, don't you?" said the Norfolk inspector.

Marshall replied, "For a warrant, yes I will go with that. We haven't any sighting of them at their mother's place yet so we should widen the alert nationwide. Will you do the media, Geoff?"

"I will arrange for the Chief Inspector to do it. He actually likes this sort of thing."

It was endemic among police officers that they hated the job of doing a media briefings unless they had a career interest in public relations.

When they finished the call, DI Marshall called Catrin in private on her mobile.

"You seemed a bit out of sorts on the call, Catrin. Is it the Scotland thing?" he asked.

"No sir, that is on my mind a bit, I have to admit, but something is not quite right here. It's bothering me, but I can't pin it down. We have interviews with the two security guards from Halsting Hall this afternoon. If it's alright with you I will stay over for one more chat with the Pickersgills and travel back tomorrow rather than head back this evening?"

"Catrin that's fine. Do as you see fit."

Over the last few years Marshall had come to trust Sayer's feel for things; as often as not something came out of left field and moved a case forward.