‘What do you find so calming about that?’ asked Stephen, over his shoulder.

‘It takes one’s mind off things,’ she answered vaguely.

It said much for Joseph’s kindliness, Mathilda thought, that with no more than a sigh, immediately suppressed, he got up from his chair, and offered to help in the search for the book. Mathilda was afraid that he would ask Stephen for it, but although he did glance speculatively at that unresponsive profile he appeared to feel the moment to be unpropitious, and said nothing. It seemed rather unfair that he, upon whom the brunt of the evening’s burden had fallen, should be obliged to undertake a singularly futile search single-handed, so Mathilda got up, and offered to assist him. Maud thanked her placidly, and went back to her seat by the fire.

‘She might have put it down in the billiard-room,’ Mathilda suggested. ‘She came in there just before tea, didn’t she?’

The billiard-room yielded no clue to the book’s whereabouts, but the sight of the Christmas tree, glittering under the lights, brought home to Mathilda and to Joseph the gruesome nature of the events of the day. Joseph swallowed twice, and made a tragic gesture towards the coloured balls and the twinkling tinsel.

‘What are you going to do about it?’ asked Mathilda. ‘It does seem a trifle out of place, doesn’t it?’

Joseph blew his nose. ‘It must be taken away. Oh, Tilda, is this all my fault? Was I wrong to coax Nat into giving this party? I meant it to be so different!’

‘I don’t see that you could have known that Nat would be murdered,’ she replied.

He shook his head, putting out a hand to finger one of the icicles that depended from a laden branch.

‘Joe, did he make a will?’

He raised his eyes. ‘Yes. I don’t know whether it’s still in existence, though. Perhaps it would be better if he’d destroyed it.’

‘Why?’

‘It was when he had pleurisy, in the spring,’ Joseph said. ‘I persuaded him to make a will. I thought it right, Tilda! If only one could see into the future!’

‘Was it in Stephen’s favour?’

He nodded. After a moment, she said: ‘Well, Stephen didn’t know it, anyway.’

He glanced up quickly, and down again.

‘Unless you told him,’ she added.

‘I? No, I never said so! Not in so many words! But when I saw what sort of a mood he was in, I did rather hint to Valerie that a word from her might be advantageous. She may tell the Inspector so. She’s such a thoughtless child! And you know what an impression Stephen must be giving the police by that silly, boorish manner he puts on! Oh, Tilda, I feel worried to death!’

She was silent for a moment. ‘Did the police ask you who was the heir?’ she said presently.

‘Yes, but I think I shelved the question. I gave them the name of Nat’s solicitor.’

‘Do you suppose that the will is in his charge?’