‘I can promise nothing about that. If it is irrelevant it will not be used. I think it advisable that you should tell Miss Seacliff, but that, of course, is entirely a matter for your own judgment.’

‘You don’t understand.’

‘Possibly not. There’s one other question. Did you return to the studio on Friday before you left for Boxover?’

‘No. I packed my suitcase after lunch. Young Hatchett came in and talked to me while I was at it. Then I called Valmai and we set off in the car.’

‘I see. Thank you. I won’t keep you any longer, Mr Pilgrim.’

‘Very well, sir. Thank you.’

Fox showed Pilgrim out and returned to the fire. He looked dubious. Nigel reappeared and sat on the wide fender.

‘Well, Fox,’ said Alleyn, raising an eyebrow, ‘what did you think of that?’

‘His ideas on the subject of his young lady seem a bit high-flown from what we’ve seen of her,’ said Fox.

‘What’s she like?’ asked Nigel.

‘She’s extremely beautiful,’ Alleyn said. ‘Beautiful enough to launch a thousand crimes, perhaps. But I should not have thought the Sonia episode would have caused her to so much as bat an eyelid. She has completely wiped the floor with all the other females, and that, I imagine, is all that matters to Miss Seacliff.’

‘Of course, the poor fool’s besotted on her. You can see that with half an eye,’ said Nigel. He glanced at his shorthand notes. ‘What about his alibi?’

‘If this place Boxover is only twelve miles away,’ grunted Fox, ‘his alibi isn’t of much account. Is it, Mr Alleyn? They went to bed early on Friday night. He could slip out, run over here, rig the knife and get back to Boxover almost within the hour.’

‘You must remember that Garcia slept in the studio.’

‘Yes, that’s so. But he may not have been there on Friday night. He may have packed up by then and gone off on his tour.’

‘Pilgrim must have known that, Fox, if he planned to come to the studio.’

‘Yes. That’s so. Mind, I still think Garcia’s our man. This Mr Pilgrim doesn’t strike me as the chap for a job of this sort.’

‘He’s a bit too obviously the clean young Englishman, though, isn’t he?’ said Nigel.

‘Hullo,’ remarked Alleyn, ‘didn’t Pilgrim come up to your high expectations, Bathgate?’

‘Well, you were remarkably cold and snorty with him yourself.’

‘Because throughout our conversation he so repeatedly shifted ground. That sort of behaviour is always exceedingly tedious. It was only because I was rough with him that we got the blackmail story at all.’