‘Ah!’ Alleyn said. ‘That’s what my wife asked me the next night in Norminster.’

I

‘It was all a put-up job, then?’ Troy asked. ‘The way Caley—he—I still think of him as that—the way he blazed away at Pollock and the way those three seemed to dislike and fight shy of him and abuse him—well—the whole inter-relationship as it was displayed to us? All an act?’

‘My love, yes.’

‘But, Hewson’s distress over his sister—’ she turned to Dr Natouche. ‘You said he was distressed, didn’t you?’

‘I thought so, certainly.’

‘He was distressed all right and he was deadly frightened into the bargain,’ Alleyn grunted and after a moment he said: ‘You were among counterfeiters, darling, and very expert hands at that. Do fill up your glass, Natouche.’

‘Thank you. I suppose,’ Dr Natouche said, ‘they looked upon me as a sort of windfall. They could all combine to throw suspicion upon me. Bard was particularly adroit. I must apologize, by the way, for losing my temper. It was when he lied about my going below during the uproar. He knew perfectly well that I went below. We ran into each other at the stairhead. When he lied I behaved like the savage they all thought me.’ He turned to Troy. ‘I am glad you did not see it,’ he said.

Alleyn remembered the uplifted ebony arms, the curved hands and the naked fury of the face and he thought Troy might have seen an element in Dr Natouche’s rage that he would never suspect her of finding.

In some sort echoing, as she often did, Alleyn’s thoughts about her, she said to Dr Natouche. ‘You must say at once—you will, please, won’t you?—if it’s an unwelcome suggestion, but some day, when you can spare the time, will you let me paint you?’

‘If you look closely,’ he said with an air of astonishment, ‘you may be able to see that I am blushing.’

They finished their dinner and talked for a time and then Troy and Alleyn walked with Dr Natouche to the garage where he had left his car. The inquest was over and he was driving back to Liverpool that night. By a sort of tacit consent they did not discuss the sequel.

It was a sultry night and very still with a hint of thunder in the air. But there was no mist. They came to the top of Wharf Lane and looked down at The River. There was the Zodiac, quietly riding at her moorings with her cherry-coloured curtains glowing companionably. And there, on the right, were the offices of The Pleasure Craft and Riverage Company. Troy fancied she could make out a card stuck to the window and crossed the lane to see.

‘They’ve forgotten to take it down,’ she said and the men read it.