‘Quite possible on what we’ve got.’

‘Shall I get Mr Pilgrim, sir?’

‘I think so, Fox. We’ll see if he conforms to the Garcia theme or not.’

‘I’ll bet he does,’ said Nigel. ‘Is it the Basil Pilgrim who’s the eldest son of the Methodist Peer?’

‘That’s the one. Do you know him?’

‘No, but I know of him. I did a story for my paper on his old man. The son’s rather a pleasant specimen. I fancy. Cricketer. He was a Blue and looked good enough for an M.C.C. star before he took to this painting.’

‘And became a little odd?’ finished Alleyn with a twinkle.

‘I didn’t say that, but it was rather a waste. Anyhow I fail to visualize him as a particularly revolting type of murderer. He’ll conform to the Garcia theme, you may depend upon it.’

‘That’s because you want things to work out that way.’

‘Don’t you think Garcia’s your man?’

‘On what we’ve got I do, certainly, but it’s much too early to become wedded to a theory. Back to your corner.’

Fox returned with Basil Pilgrim. As Nigel had remarked, Pilgrim was a very pleasant specimen. He was tall, with a small head, square shoulders and a narrow waist. His face was rather finedrawn. He had a curious trick while he talked of turning his head first to one member of his audience and then to another. This habit suggested a nervous restlessness. He had a wide mouth, magnificent teeth and very good manners. Alleyn got him to sit down, gave him a cigarette and began at once to establish his movements after he drove away with Valmai Seacliff from Tatler’s End House on Friday afternoon. Pilgrim said that they motored to some friends of Valmai Seacliff’s who lived at Boxover, twelve miles away. They dined with these friends—a Captain and Mrs Pascoe—spent the evening playing bridge and stayed the night there. The next day they motored to Ankerton Manor, the Oxfordshire seat of Lord Pilgrim, where Basil introduced his fiancée to his father. They spent Saturday night at Ankerton and returned to Tatler’s End House on Sunday afternoon.

‘At what time did you break up your bridge party on Friday night?’ asked Alleyn.

‘Fairly early, I think, sir. About elevenish. Valmai had got a snorter of a headache and could hardly see the cards. I gave her some aspirin. She took three tablets, and turned in.’

‘Did the aspirin do its job?’

‘Oh, rather! She said she slept like the dead.’ He looked from Alleyn to Fox and back again. ‘She didn’t wake till they brought in tea. Her head had quite cleared up.’

‘Is she subject to these headaches?’

Pilgrim looked surprised.