‘It sounds rather absurd, I know,’ said Alleyn, ‘but you see we’ve got to find out as closely as possible what everyone did that night.’

‘Basil didn’t come into my room, if that’s what you’re hinting at,’ said Miss Seacliff without heat. ‘It wasn’t that sort of party. And anyway, I’m not given to that kind of thing even when I haven’t got a headache. I don’t believe in it. Sooner or later you lose your glamour. Look at Sonia.’

‘Quite so. Then as far as you know the household slept without stirring from Friday night to Saturday morning?’

‘Yes,’ said Miss Seacliff, looking at him as if he was slightly demented.

‘And on Saturday you went on to Ankerton Manor. When did you start?’

‘We had a glass of sherry at about ten, and then pushed off. Basil was in a great state lest we should be late for lunch, and wanted to get away earlier, but I saw no reason why we should go rushing about the countryside before it was necessary. We had plenty of time.’

‘Why was he so anxious?’

‘He kept saying that he was sure Sybil Pascoe wanted to get away. She was going up to London for a week and leaving Ken to look after himself. I pointed out that was no reason why we should bolt off. Then Basil said we mustn’t be late at Ankerton. The truth was, the poor lamb wanted me to make a good impression on his extraordinary old father. I told him he needn’t worry. Old men always go quite crazy about me. But Basil was absurdly nervous about the meeting and kept fidgeting me to start. We got there early as it was, and by luncheon-time the old person was talking about the family jewels. He’s given me some emeralds that I’m going to have reset. They’re rather spectacular.’

‘You left Ankerton yesterday after luncheon, I suppose?’

‘Yes. Basil was rather keen to stay on till Monday, but I’d had enough. The old person made me hack round the ancestral acres on a beastly little animal that nearly pulled my arms out. I saw you looking at my hand.’

With a slow and beautiful movement she extended her left arm, opened her hand, and held it close to Alleyn’s face. It was warmly scented and the palm was rouged. At the base of the little finger were two or three scarlet marks.

‘My hands are terribly soft, of course,’ said Miss Seacliff, advancing it a little closer to his face.

‘Yes,’ said Alleyn. ‘You are evidently not an experienced horsewoman.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘Well, you know, these marks have not been made by a rein. I should say, Miss Seacliff, that your pony’s mane had been called into service.’

She pulled her hand away and turned rather pink.