‘No, Stephen’s right,’ Mathilda said. ‘I know what a fuss there was when my Aunt Charlotte died, leaving a will on half a sheet of notepaper. The Law’s extremely sticky about wills. Besides, how can you explain such a piece of lunacy as not admitting the two witnesses into the room?’

‘But, Tilda, it was hard enough to bring Nat to the point of making a will at all!’

‘Well you’d better keep quiet about that,’ said Mathilda unkindly. ‘We know you persuaded him with the best intentions, but it might not sound so good to anyone who hasn’t the pleasure of knowing the Herriard family.’

Joseph looked quite stunned, and was for once bereft of the power of speech. Maud’s flat voice made itself heard. ‘Well, I am sure Nathaniel never meant Joseph to inherit all his money,’ she said. ‘It is not at all what he wished, for he did not consider that Joseph had any sense of money.’

‘Do you mean to tell me,’ said Paula ominously, ‘that I shan’t get my legacy after all?’

‘Not a penny of it,’ replied Stephen. ‘You may, of course, be able to bully Joe into disgorging it.’

That roused Joseph into exclaiming: ‘How can you, Stephen? As though I should have to be bullied into it! If you are right about this unlucky business – but I feel sure you’re not! – you can’t think that I should let the matter rest at that! I know well what poor Nat’s wishes were!’

‘If you are about to offer restitution, don’t!’ said Stephen grimly. ‘I’m not taking any.’

Paula suddenly surprised everyone by breaking into a peal of jangling laughter. ‘How damned funny!’ she said. ‘Nat’s been murdered, we’ve been torn and rent by fear and suspicion, all for nothing!’

Mathilda regarded her with disfavour. ‘It may be your idea of humour. It isn’t mine. I don’t for a moment suppose that you want my advice, but before you all rush to extremes, might it not be as well to discover just how the law does stand towards intestacy?’

‘He didn’t die intestate!’ Joseph said. ‘Just because there’s a small irregularity –’

‘That’s rather a good idea of yours, Mathilda,’ said Stephen, as though Joseph had not spoken. ‘I’ll get on to Blyth, and ask him.’

He left the room. Paula was still laughing, with more than a suggestion of hysteria in her voice. Joseph tried to put his arm round her, but was fiercely shaken off. ‘Leave me alone!’ she said. ‘I might have guessed you’d muddle everything! Fool! Fool!’

‘If you don’t shut up, I’ll empty this flower-vase over your head!’ threatened Mathilda.

‘Can’t you see the exquisite irony of it?’ Paula said. ‘He did it all for the best! Oh, my God, what a second act it would make! I must tell Willoughby! He at least will have the perception to appreciate it!’

Roydon, however, was not immediately to be found, nor, if Paula had found him, would her idea for a second act have been met with any enthusiasm. His thoughts were far from playwriting. He was confronting Inspector Hemingway, rather white about the gills, and with his Adam’s apple working convulsively.