‘Another murder,’ said Inspector Kelsey. He led the way out of the room and Adam followed him. They had been sitting in the latter’s room drinking beer and discussing various probabilities when Kelsey had been summoned to the telephone.

‘Who is it?’ demanded Adam, as he followed Inspector Kelsey down the stairs.

‘Another mistress—Miss Vansittart.’

‘Where?’

‘In the Sports Pavilion.’

‘The Sports Pavilion again,’ said Adam. ‘What is there about this Sports Pavilion?’

‘You’d better give it the once-over this time,’ said Inspector Kelsey. ‘Perhaps your technique of searching may be more successful than ours has been. There must be something about that Sports Pavilion or why should everyone get killed there?’

He and Adam got into his car. ‘I expect the doctor will be there ahead of us. He hasn’t so far to go.’

It was, Kelsey thought, like a bad dream repeating itself as he entered the brilliantly lighted Sports Pavilion. There, once again, was a body with the doctor kneeling beside it. Once again the doctor rose from his knees and got up.

‘Killed about half an hour ago,’ he said. ‘Forty minutes at most.’

‘Who found her?’ said Kelsey.

One of his men spoke up. ‘Miss Chadwick.’

‘That’s the old one, isn’t it?’

‘Yes. She saw a light, came out here, and found her dead. She stumbled back to the house and more or less went into hysterics. It was the matron who telephoned, Miss Johnson.’

‘Right,’ said Kelsey. ‘How was she killed? Shot again?’

The doctor shook his head. ‘No. Slugged on the back of the head, this time. Might have been a cosh or a sandbag. Something of that kind.’

A golf club with a steel head was lying near the door. It was the only thing that looked remotely disorderly in the place.

‘What about that?’ said Kelsey, pointing. ‘Could she have been hit with that?’

The doctor shook his head. ‘Impossible. There’s no mark on her. No, it was definitely a heavy rubber cosh or a sandbag, something of that sort.’

‘Something—professional?’

‘Probably, yes. Whoever it was, didn’t mean to make any noise this time. Came up behind her and slugged her on the back of the head. She fell forward and probably never knew what hit her.’

‘What was she doing?’

‘She was probably kneeling down,’ said the doctor. ‘Kneeling in front of this locker.’

The Inspector went up to the locker and looked at it. ‘That’s the girl’s name on it, I presume,’ he said. ‘Shaista—let me see, that’s the—that’s the Egyptian girl, isn’t it? Her Highness Princess Shaista.’ He turned to Adam. ‘It seems to tie in, doesn’t it? Wait a minute—that’s the girl they reported this evening as missing?’

‘That’s right, sir,’ said the Sergeant. ‘A car called for her here, supposed to have been sent by her uncle who’s staying at Claridge’s in London. She got into it and drove off.’

‘No reports come in?’

‘Not as yet, sir. Got a network out. And the Yard is on it.’