Maud, whose stagnant calm had been to all outward appearances undisturbed by the shocking events of the day, exasperated everyone by resuming her search for the Life of the Empress of Austria; Paula, saying that she must be alone or go mad, swept upstairs to her room; and Stephen gratified Mathilda, but revolted everyone else, by saying that a drink was clearly called for. Even Joseph said that it did not seem to be quite the moment for carousing: an expression which had the effect of driving everyone else instantly over to Stephen’s side. Mottisfont said that he thought they had all earned a drink. Upon reflection, he said that that wasn’t quite what he had meant, but when Stephen asked him with false amiability what he had really meant, he found himself unable to explain, and foundered in a morass of unfinished sentences.

Sturry, gathering that his superiors were determined to debauch themselves, apologised in a quelling way for having forgotten, under the stress of circumstances, to bring the usual tray into the drawing-room, and went away to rectify his omission.

Valerie, who had been silent for quite ten minutes, suddenly announced her intention of ringing up her mother. No one put forward any objection, though from the look which descended on to Stephen’s face it was generally inferred that he was not in favour of the operation.

When Valerie had left the room, Mathilda moved across to Stephen’s side, and asked softly: ‘Who’s the heir?’

He shrugged.

‘You?’

‘I don’t know. Don’t think he made a will.’

‘Joe’s been hinting all day that he did.’

‘Oh – Joe!’

‘He ought to know, if anyone does.’

‘The answer being that no one does. Sorry you’ve been let in for this.’

‘Don’t waste any pity on me: I’ve got an unbreakable alibi,’ she replied lightly. ‘Far be it from me to cast any aspersions on your word, Stephen, but there is one appeal I should like to address to you in the name of us all.’

He looked at her with a suddenly lowering expression on his brow. ‘Well?’

‘If you purloined Maud’s book, do for God’s sake give it back to her!’

He gave a laugh, but it seemed to her that it was perfunctory. ‘I haven’t got her book.’

‘Don’t quibble!’ said Mathilda severely.

‘I’m sick of the damned book!’ he snapped. ‘I’ve already told you once that I don’t know where it is!’

He got up, as he spoke, and walked away to the other end of the room. She saw that his nerves were on edge, and was sorry that she had teased him. Sturry came in with a tray of drinks, and set it down on a side-table. Maud asked him if he had seen the book she was reading. Sturry said in a very despising way that he had not noticed it, but would make enquiries.

‘It is very unfortunate,’ stated Maud. ‘I wish I could remember where I laid it down. I always read for twenty minutes in bed before I put the light out. It is very calming to the mind. I had just got to the part about Rudolph. The one who committed suicide.’