‘Well,’ said Troy, ‘they came back looking very smug and complacent and self-conscious, and all the others were rather funny about it. Except Sonia, who looked like thunder. It’s quite true, what Seacliff says. Sonia, you see, was the main attraction last year, as far as the men-students were concerned. She used to hold a sort of court in the rest-times and fancied herself as a Bohemian siren, poor little idiot. Then Seacliff came and wiped her eye. She was beside herself with chagrin. You’ve seen what Seacliff is like. She doesn’t exactly disguise the fact that she is attractive to men, does she? Katti says she’s a successful nymphomaniac.’

‘Pilgrim seems an honest-to-God sort of fellow.’

‘He’s a nice fellow, Pilgrim.’

‘Do you approve of the engagement?’

‘No, I don’t. I think she’s after his title.’

‘You don’t mean to say he’s a son of the Methodist peer?’

‘Yes, he is. And the Methodist peer may leave us for crowns and harps any moment now. The old gentleman’s failing.’

‘I see.’

‘As a matter of fact—’ Troy hesitated.

‘Yes?’

‘I don’t know that it matters.’

‘Please, tell me anything you can think of.’

‘You may attach too much importance to it.’

‘We are warned against that at the Yard, you know.’

‘I beg your pardon,’ said Troy stiffly. ‘I was merely going to say that I thought Basil Pilgrim had been worried about something since his engagement.’

‘Have you any idea what it was?’

‘I thought at first it might have been his father’s illness, but somehow I don’t think it was that.’

‘Perhaps he has already regretted his choice. The trapped feeling.’

‘I don’t think so,’ said Troy still more stiffly. ‘I fancy it was something to do with Sonia.’

‘With the model?’

‘I simply meant that I thought he felt uncomfortable about Sonia. She was always uttering little jeers about engaged couples. I think they made Pilgrim feel uncomfortable.’

‘Do you imagine there has ever been anything between Pilgrim and Sonia Gluck?’

‘I have no idea,’ said Troy.

There was a tap on the door, and Fox came in.

‘I got through, sir. They’ll get busy at once. The men have finished in the studio.’

‘Ask them to wait. I’ll see them in a minute.’

‘Have you finished with me?’ asked Troy, standing up.

‘Yes, thank you, Miss Troy,’ said Alleyn formally. ‘If you wouldn’t mind giving us the names and addresses of the people you met in London, I should be very grateful. You see, we are obliged to check all statements of this sort.’

‘I quite understand,’ answered Troy coldly.

She gave the names and addresses of her host and hostess, of the people she met in the club, and of the man who took her to lunch—John Bellasca, 44 Little Belgrave Street.