He put his arm round her and swore briefly but violently, asking her what the bloody hell she thought she was doing and giving her a number of hasty but well-planted embraces. This she found satisfactory. He then said they couldn’t sit down here on their bottoms all day and invited her to relate as quickly as possible anything she thought he ought to know.

‘I’ve heard your extraordinary spinster’s been found in The River and that you were the first to see her. Tillottson seems to think it’s a case of foul play. Otherwise I know nothing beyond what you wrote in your letters. Look at you. You’re as white as a sheet. Troy, my darling.’

‘It only happened a couple of hours ago, you might remember. Don’t fuss. Rory, there’s so much to tell and I’m meant to be upstairs being grilled with the others.’

‘To hell with that. No. Wait a bit. I think we must listen to Tillottson in action. I’ve thrown him into a fine old tizzy, anyway, by turning up. Tell me quickly, then: what’s happened since you posted your last letter at Tollardwark?’

‘All right. Listen.’

She told him about the diary going overboard, the behaviour of Mr Lazenby, the disappearance of Hazel Rickerby-Carrick, her sense of growing tension and Miss Hewson’s discovery of the ‘Constable’.

‘There are a lot of other little things that seemed odd to me but those are the landmarks.’

‘We’ll have the whole saga in detail later on. You’ve put me far enough in the picture for the moment. Come on. Let’s give Tillottson a treat. I’ve arranged to sit in.’

So they went upstairs. There were the other passengers in an uneasy row on the semi-circular bench at the end of the saloon: the Hewsons, Mr Pollock, Mr Lazenby, Caley Bard and, a little apart as always, Dr Natouche. The Tretheways were grouped together near the bar.

Facing the passengers at a dining table were Superintendent Tillottson and a uniformed Sergeant.

Troy sat by Dr Natouche who, with Caley Bard, rose at her approach. Alleyn stayed at the other end of the saloon. The Zodiac was tied up alongside the wapentake side of The River, below Ramsdyke Lock and the shapeless thunder of the weir could be distinctly heard. Scurries of detergent foam were blown past the open windows.

It was easy to see that Mr Tillottson suffered from a deep embarrassment. He looked at Troy and cleared his throat, he turned and nodded portentously to Alleyn. His neck turned red and he pursed up his lips to show that the situation was child’s play to him.