"That's it over there, I expect," said Susan, gesturing to the wall behind him.

Mr Guthrie got up, put on a pair of spectacles, and went over to study the picture.

"Poor dear Cora," he said at last.

"There are a lot more," said Susan.

Mr Guthrie proceeded to a leisurely inspection of the art treasures acquired by the hopeful Mrs Lansquenet. Occasionally he said, "Tchk, Tchk," occasionally he sighed.

Finally he removed his spectacles.

"Dirt," he said, "is a wonderful thing, Mrs Banks! It gives a patina of romance to the most horrible examples of the painter's art. I'm afraid that Bartolozzi was beginner's luck. Poor Cora. Still it gave her an interest in life. I am really thankful that I did not have to disillusion her."

"There are some pictures in, the dining-room," said Susan, "but I think they are all her husband's work."

Mr Guthrie shuddered slightly and held up a protesting hand.

"Do not force me to look at those again. Life classes have much to answer for! I always tried to spare Cora's feelings. A devoted wife - a very devoted wife. Well, dear Mrs Banks, I must not take up more of your time."

"Oh, do stay and have some tea. I think it's nearly ready."

"That is very kind of you." Mr Guthrie sat down again promptly.

"I'll just go and see."

In the kitchen, Miss Gilchrist was just lifting a last batch of scones from the oven. The tea-tray stood ready and the kettle was just gently rattling its lid.

"There's a Mr Guthrie here, and I've asked him to stay for tea."

"Mr Guthrie? Oh, yes, he was a great friend of dear Mrs Lansquenet's. He's the celebrated art critic. How fortunate; I've made a nice lot of scones and that's some home-made strawberry jam, and I just whipped up some little drop cakes. I'll just make the tea - I've warmed the pot. Oh, please, Mrs Banks, don't carry that heavy tray. I can manage everything."

However, Susan took in the tray and Miss Gilchrist followed with teapot and kettle, greeted Mr Guthrie, and they set to.

"Hot scones, that is a treat," said Mr Guthrie, "and what delicious jam!

Really, the stuff one buys nowadays."

Miss Gilchrist was flushed and delighted. The little cakes were excellent and so were the scones, and everyone did justice to them. The ghost of the Willow Tree hung over the party. Here, it was clear, Miss Gilchrist was in her element.

"Well, thank you, perhaps I will," said Mr Guthrie as he accepted the last cake, pressed upon him by Miss Gilchrist. "I do feel rather guilty, though - enjoying my tea here, where poor Cora was so brutally murdered."

Miss Gilchrist displayed an unexpected Victorian reaction to this.

"Oh, but Mrs Lansquenet would have wished you to take a good tea. You've got to keep your strength up."

"Yes, yes, perhaps you are right. The fact is, you know, that one cannot really bring oneself to believe that someone you knew - actually knew - can have been murdered!"