‘And I said, “Isn’t that very dangerous”? And Brummie said it was and then he said …’ She started to get upset. Joseph reached into his top pocket and passed her his handkerchief. ‘Then Brummie said, “If it was me, I’d rather take me chances with the Hun. But I think he might have just done it, the barmy devil. I think he might have just gone and signed his life away”.’

And then she started to cry. ‘And I think it’s partly my fault too, Sir – if he has gone and signed his life away because …’ She shook her head. ‘Because of lots of things.’

‘My dear young lady,’ Joseph said, ‘I don’t believe for one minute that Mr Maguire has enlisted.’

She looked up then, with hopeful, watery eyes. ‘You don’t?’

He put his hand up. ‘And not because I think he’s a coward but because he wouldn’t simply leave Snowden like that.’ He believed it; these were not merely words of consolation for Miss Corbett.

‘To go, without a word to you or any of his other colleagues? Or to me? No.’ He shook his head. ‘He has more integrity than that. If he’d wanted to enlist, goodness knows I wouldn’t have stood in his way. He only had to say.’

Miss Corbett dried her eyes then and seemed a little less despondent.

‘I’m going back to London, Sir, as you know, for the funeral and, well, I’m hoping – and half expecting – to bump into him there.’ She gave a helpless shrug.

‘Stranger things have happened,’ Joseph agreed.

‘And I’ve written to him, too. Miss Sharp got me his address. I couldn’t think what else to do. But … I’ve not heard back.’

‘Not yet! Hope springs eternal, Miss Corbett!’ He sounded much more optimistic than he felt.

Joseph brought himself back to the present. It was no good, he couldn’t stay in here, like a caged animal. He yanked the study door open and flew out. Dakin appeared as though from nowhere.

‘Will you be wanting the motor car, Sir?’

Joseph patted his arm. ‘No. Yes. Tell Brummie I’ll need the car brought round to the front at three o’clock. Overnight trip, Dakin, if you could pack me a few things, please. But now, I’m going to walk down to the village.’ He called for the dogs.

Dakin produced his overcoat. ‘You might be needing this, Sir.’ He held it out while Joseph put it on. ‘It is January, after all, Sir. Chilly. And your hat.’

Dakin’s face was as serene as ever, but he must have been wondering what was happening. Joseph never went to the village.

As he reached the front door, he stopped and turned back.

‘Dakin,’ he said, ‘do you happen to know where Mrs Nicholls lives?’