Ford, twice questioned by the police already, was nervous, and inclined to be sullen, but when he was asked if he had tried the bathroom door in his efforts to get into his master’s room on the previous evening, he replied readily that he had, and that it had been locked. Paula, interrupted in the middle of a discussion with Roydon on the advisability of rewriting a part of the second act of Wormwood, said impatiently that of course she had not tried the bathroom door, and turned her shoulder to the Inspector. He withdrew, and was fortunate enough to encounter Valerie, crossing the hall towards the staircase. She gave a start on seeing him, and eyed him with mingled trepidation and suspicion.

‘You’re just the person I was waiting to see, miss,’ said Hemingway pleasantly.

‘It’s no use: I don’t know anything about it!’ Valerie assured him.

‘No, I don’t suppose you do,’ he replied, surprising her exactly as he had meant to. ‘It isn’t likely a young lady like you would be mixed up in a murder.’

She gave an audible sigh of relief, but still watched him suspiciously. Correctly divining that she would not object to familiarity, if it were judiciously mixed with flattery, he said: ‘If you don’t mind my saying so, miss, it’s a bit of a surprise to me to find anyone like you here.’

She responded instinctively. ‘I don’t know what you mean! Do you think I’m so extraordinary?’

‘Well, it isn’t every day of the week that I meet a beautiful young lady, all in the way of business,’ said the Inspector unblushingly.

She giggled. ‘Good gracious, I didn’t know that policemen paid one compliments!’

‘They don’t often get the chance,’ answered Hemingway. ‘You’re engaged to be married to Mr Stephen Herriard, aren’t you, miss?’

This brought a cloud to her brow. ‘Yes, in a way I suppose I am,’ she admitted.

‘You don’t sound very sure about it!’ he said, cocking an intelligent eyebrow.

‘Oh, I don’t know! Only I never thought a thing like this would happen. It sort of changes everything. Besides, I utterly loathe this house, and Stephen adores it.’

‘Ah, he’s got a taste for antiques, I daresay!’ said Hemingway, very much on the alert.

‘Well, I think it’s all completely deathly, and I simply won’t be buried alive here.’

‘I wouldn’t take on about that, if I were you, miss. I expect Mr Stephen will be only too glad to live wherever you want.’

She opened her eyes at him. ‘Stephen? Oh gosh, no! He’s the most foully obstinate person I’ve ever met! You simply can’t move him once he’s made up his mind.’

‘I can see you’ve been having a pretty uncomfortable time,’ said Hemingway sympathetically.

Valerie, already smarting from the sense of her own wrongs, and further aggrieved by her parent’s attitude of bracing common sense, was only too glad to have found someone to whom she could unburden herself. She drew nearer to the Inspector, saying: ‘Well, I have. I mean, I’m one of those frightfully highly-strung people. I just can’t help it!’