‘It’s all right. We’re doing some work out of doors when it’s fine, and I’ve moved everything round in the studio and got a man from the village to sit. Katti’s doing a life-size thing of the policeman at the front gate. It’s a bit—difficult—at times, but they seem to have made up their minds Garcia did it.’

‘This last thing—about Garcia. It’s been a pretty bad shock to you.’

‘In a way—yes,’ said Troy. ‘It was kind of you to send me a telegram.’

‘Kind! Oh, well, if it broke the news a bit, that’s something. You had no particular feeling about him, had you? It was his work, wasn’t it?’

‘True enough. His work. That clay group was really good, you know. I think it would have been the best thing he ever did. Somebody will do the marble from the model, I suppose.’ She looked directly in Alleyn’s eyes. ‘I’m—I’m horrified,’ she whispered.

‘I know.’

‘Nitric acid! It’s so beyond the bounds of one’s imagination that anyone could possibly—Please tell me—they seemed to suggest that Garcia himself—I must know. Did he kill her and then himself? I can’t believe he did. He would never do that. The first—all that business with the knife—I can imagine his suddenly deciding to kill Sonia like that. In a ghastly sort of way it might appeal to his imagination, but it’s just because his imagination was so vivid that I am sure he wouldn’t kill himself so horribly. Why—why, Ormerin once spilt acid from that bottle on his hand—Garcia was there. He knew. He saw the burn.’

‘He was drugged at the time he died. He’d been smoking opium.’

‘Garcia! But—All right. It’s not fair to ask you questions.’

‘I’m so sorry. I think we’re nearly at an end. Tomorrow, perhaps, we shall know.’

‘Don’t look so—worried,’ said Troy suddenly.

‘I wonder if it has ever entered your head,’ said Alleyn, ‘that it is only by wrenching my thoughts round with a remarkable effort that I can keep them on my job and not on you.’

She looked at him without speaking.

‘Well,’ he said. ‘What have you got to say to that, Troy?’

‘Nothing. I’m sorry. I’d better go.’

‘A woman never actually objects to a man getting into this state of mind about her, does she? I mean—as long as he behaves himself?’

‘No. I don’t think she does.’

‘Unless she happens to associate him with something particularly unpleasant. As you must me. Good God, I’m a pretty sort of fellow to shove my damned attentions on a lady in the middle of a job like this.’

‘You’re saying too much,’ said Troy. ‘You must stop. Please.’