‘Dead right,’ Mr Lazenby applauded. ‘Good on you.’ And feeling perhaps that his style was inappropriate, he added, ‘We shall be absolutely within our rights to adopt this attitude. In my opinion it is entirely proper for us to do so.’

‘Reverend Lazenby,’ Mr Hewson said with fervour, ‘you said it. Boy, you certainly said it.’

Miss Hewson, who had been furtively dabbing at her eyes and nose gave a shatteringly profound sob.

‘Ah, for Pete’s sake, Sis,’ said Hewson.

‘No! No! No!’ she cried out on a note of real terror. ‘Don’t touch me. I’m not staying here. I’m going to my room. I’m going to bed.’

‘Do,’ Alleyn said politely. ‘Why not take one of your own pills?’

She caught her breath, stared at him and then blundered down the companion-way to the lower deck.

‘Poor girl,’ said Mr Lazenby. ‘Poor dear girl.’

‘There’s one other question,’ Alleyn said. ‘In view of your decision of a moment ago you may not feel inclined to answer it. Unless—?’ he smiled at Caley Bard.

‘At the moment,’ Caley said, ‘I’m not sending for my solicitor or taking vows of silence.’

‘Good. Well, then, here it is. Miss Rickerby-Carrick wore on a cord round her neck, an extremely valuable jewel. She told Miss Hewson and my wife about it. It has not been found.’

‘Washed off ?’ Caley suggested.

‘Possible, of course. If necessary we’ll search the river bed.’

Caley thought for a moment. ‘Look,’ he then said. ‘She was a pretty scatty individual. I gather she was sleeping on deck or trying to sleep. She said she suffered from insomnia. My God, if she did it was fully orchestrated but that’s by the way. Suppose in the dead of night she was awake and suppose she took a hike along the tow-path in her navy pi-jams and her magenta gown with her bit of Fabergé tat around her neck? Grotesque it may sound but it would be entirely in character.’

‘How,’ Alleyn said, ‘do you know it was Fabergé, Mr Bard?’

‘Because, for God’s sake, she told me. When we thundered about the Crossdyke ruins, butterfly hunting. I dare say she told everybody. She was scatty as a hen, poor wretch.’

‘Well?’

‘Well, and suppose she met an unsavoury character who grabbed the bauble and when she cut up rough, throttled her and shoved her in the river?’

‘First collecting her suitcase from her cabin in the Zodiac?’

‘Damn!’ said Caley. ‘You would bring that up wouldn’t you.’

‘All the same,’ Alleyn said, turning to the group round the table, ‘we can’t overlook the possibility of interference of some sort from outside.’

‘Like who?’ Hewson demanded.

‘Like, for instance, a motorcyclist and his girl who seem to have rather haunted the course of the Zodiac. Do you all know who I mean?’

Silence.