‘That’s all right,’ Benwell said. ‘I’m on duty anyway. And I’m hardly rushed off my feet.’ He moved a pile of papers from a chair so George could sit down. ‘What’s all this about, anyway?’

George had expected to find the interview awkward and embarrassing. He was conscious of his age, his background, his lack of any practical policing. He had presumed the detective would be cynical and defensive, resentful of an outsider questioning the handling of the case. In fact, Benwell was remarkably easy to talk to and George found it a relief to share his worry about Ursula’s death. He explained briefly the background to the case. Benwell listened, leaning back in his chair, his eyes half closed, so George wondered if he was taking it in, but when he asked a question to clarify the story he seemed to have grasped immediately the most important facts.

When George finished Benwell leaned forward. ‘There’ll be a post-mortem anyway,’ the policeman said. ‘The pathologist couldn’t find an obvious cause of death. But I thought it would be quite straightforward. She was an old lady.’

‘Will you ask the pathologist to look for phosdrin? That’s the only poison keepers inject into hens’ eggs.’ George said tentatively. ‘He’d not be able to tell without sending samples to the lab, but then apparently it would be easy to detect.’

‘Sure,’ Benwell said. ‘I’ll speak to him first thing tomorrow.’ He stretched. The sunlight streamed into the room through the large windows. There was a view of hills and they could hear the distant rumble of traffic on the main road to the Lake District. ‘ If she was poisoned how do you think it was administered?’

‘In alcohol,’ George said. ‘She’d been drinking heavily all evening. We found an empty whisky bottle in her house. I’ve brought that with me. If there’s no trace of phosdrin in the bottle there’s a possibility that it was put directly into the glass.’

‘Did you bring that to be tested?’ The detective smiled.

‘No,’ George said. ‘There was no point. It had been washed.’

‘Do you think that’s significant?’

‘Not necessarily. Ursula might have washed it herself before the poison took effect. There was a second glass. That could be important, though she wasn’t houseproud. It could have been left on the draining board from a previous occasion.’

There was a pause. George thought the detective was trying to find the words to tell him tactfully to get lost. ‘You’re convinced, aren’t you,’ Benwell said, ‘that she was murdered?’

‘Yes,’ George said. ‘I’m not sure why. It’s so convenient, I suppose, that she’s gone.’

‘It won’t be an easy investigation,’ Benwell said. ‘Grenville’s a powerful man. I take it that Marcus Grenville is your chief suspect?’