‘There won’t be. I may not be master in this house for very long, but I am tonight.’

‘I make all allowances for your perverted sense of humour, but I wish you wouldn’t talk like that!’

He laughed, and pushed open the library door. ‘Go in. I’ll send for tea here.’

‘Do you think we ought to? It’ll look rather rude.’

‘Who cares?’

‘Not you, I know. I’m past caring.’

He rang the bell, regarding her with an expression in his eyes hard to read. ‘Can’t you take it, Mathilda?’

‘Not much more of it, at all events. There’s a good deal to be said for Maud’s point of view. This kind of thing is sheer hell. What did that policeman say to you?’

He shrugged. ‘Just what you’d expect. I rather fancy that he came to me fresh from an illuminating chat with Sturry.’

‘I detest Sturry!’ Mathilda said.

‘Yes, so do I. If I get out of this imbroglio, I shall sack him. I caught him with his ear to the keyhole yesterday, when Uncle was favouring us with his opinion of Roydon’s play. He won’t forgive that in a hurry.’

‘I’ve always thought he was the sort who’d stab you in –’ She broke off short, colour flooding her face.

‘Go on!’ he encouraged her. ‘Why not say it? My withers will be wholly unwrung.’

She shook her head. ‘Can’t. It’s too grim. I suppose Sturry gave the Inspector a garbled account of what Nat said to you.’

‘Not much need to garble it. Uncle said he wouldn’t have me in the house again.’

‘We all know he didn’t mean it!’

‘You try telling that to Inspector Hemingway. I think I’m for it, Mathilda.’

She said, with sudden, irrational fury: ‘It’s a judgment on you for being such a silly, damned fool! Why the hell do you have to quarrel with everyone?’

He did not reply, for the footman came in just then, in answer to the bell. He gave a brief order for tea to be brought to them, and for a moment or two after the man had gone away stood staring down into the fire.

‘Sorry!’ Mathilda said, surprised to find herself oddly shaken. ‘I didn’t mean it.’

He gave a short laugh, as though he thought what she had said to be of no account. ‘Do you think I did it, Mathilda?’

She took a cigarette from her case, and lit it. ‘In spite of all the evidence piling up against you, no.’

‘Thanks. I imagine you’re practically alone in your opinion.’

‘There is one person besides myself who knows you didn’t do it.’

‘Very neat,’ he approved. ‘Ever been watched by the police? Most unnerving performance.’

‘I suppose we’re all under supervision.’

‘Not you, my girl: you’re not a suspect.’

She decided that her cigarette tasted of garbage, and pitched it into the fire. ‘It’s you who can’t take it, Stephen. You talk as though Black Maria was at the door, but I maintain that the police haven’t got enough evidence even to detain you.’