“What will you do tomorrow, Oliver?” Celia asked. “There has to be some mistake. What is he accused of? And where’s Margaret? She must be desperately upset. She was always the closest to Papa.”

“That’s not true,” Gwen said instantly.

“Oh, hold your tongue!” Celia snapped. “We have to stop quarreling among ourselves and think what to do. What is it about, Oliver?”

Rathbone tried to smile, as if he were confident, but he knew it was sickly on his lips. “It is in connection with the murder of an extremely unpleasant man named Mickey Parfitt. He was strangled and thrown into the river, up beyond Chiswick.”

“Chiswick?” Mrs. Ballinger said in disbelief. “Why does Mr. Monk imagine Arthur would have anything to do with it? That’s absurd!”

“He was on the river that night,” Rathbone replied. “He crossed at Chiswick, if you recall. He went to see Bertie Harkness. He told us about it over dinner.”

“This is farcical,” George interrupted again. “Surely Harkness can tell the police where he was? Monk deserves to be punished for this. It’s totally incompetent. The man has a personal—”

“Oh, do be quiet!” Wilbert said impatiently. “You’re talking about the police. He isn’t some nincompoop running around doing whatever he likes. Anyway, why should he have anything personal against Papa-in-law? He doesn’t even know him.”

George’s heavy eyebrows shot up. “Are you suggesting there is something in this? That Papa-in-law had something to do with this wretched man’s murder?”

“Don’t be stupid! Of course I’m not. It probably has to do with a client. He could be acting for someone who does.”

“Oh, really!” Mrs. Ballinger protested.

“Mama-in-law,” Rathbone seized the chance Wilbert had given him, “if he could act for Jericho Phillips, he could act for anyone. I’ll go to the River Police first thing in the morning and find out from Monk himself exactly what evidence they have, and what they have made of it. And of course I’ll see Papa-in-law and find out if he wishes me to act for him. Then we’ll sort it all out.”

“With an apology,” George added.

Mrs. Ballinger looked at both of them, blinking, her face composed with an obvious effort. “Thank you, Oliver. I think it would be best if we all retired now. How is Margaret?”

“As brave as you all are,” Rathbone replied, hoping it would remain true. He had been aware even as he spoke that he had promised more than he was certain he could fulfill.