When still they didn’t speak, he said, ‘I think perhaps I should go now.’

‘But you haven’t had coffee,’ said Elizabeth.

‘Just the same, it might be better . . .’

‘Please stay and have coffee,’ she said firmly, almost sternly, and then she forced a smile. ‘I insist.’

Back in the sitting room they offered him brandy. He refused it because he had to drive home, and the sooner he could begin that drive the happier he would be. Hugo had a large brandy which he drank at a gulp, the way brandy should never be drunk unless one has had a shock or is steeling oneself for something. Elizabeth had picked up the evening paper and was talking in a very artificial way about a murder case which appeared on the front page.

‘I really must go,’ said Duncan.

‘Have some more coffee. It’s not ten yet.’

Why did they want him to stay? Or, rather, why did she? Hugo was once more busy with the brandy bottle. Duncan thought his company must be as tiresome to them as theirs was to him. They had got what they wanted, hadn’t they? He drank his second cup of coffee so quickly that it scalded his mouth and then he got up.

‘I’ll get an umbrella. I’ll come out with you,’ said Hugo.

‘Thank you.’ It was over. He was going to make his escape and he need never see them again. And suddenly he felt that he wouldn’t be able to get out of that house fast enough. Really, since he had made his little speech, the atmosphere had been thoroughly disagreeable. ‘Good night, Elizabeth,’ he said. What platitudes could he think of that weren’t too ludicrous? ‘Thank you for the meal. Perhaps we may meet again some day.’

‘I hope we shall and soon, Duncan,’ she said, but she didn’t give him her cheek. Through the open door the rain was driving in against her long skirt. She stood there, watching him go out with Hugo, letting the light pour out to guide them round the corner of the house.

As soon as he was round that corner, Duncan felt an unpleasant jerk of shock. His car lights were dimly on, headlights on but with the feeble glow of sidelights.

‘How did I come to do a thing like that?’

‘I suppose you left them on to see your way to the door,’ said Hugo, ‘and then forgot them.’

‘I’m sure I did not.’

‘You must have. Hold the umbrella and I’ll try the ignition.’ Leaving Duncan on the flooded path under the inadequate umbrella, Hugo got into the driving seat and inserted the ignition key. The lights gave a flash and went out. Nothing else happened at all. It was now pitch dark. ‘Not a spark,’ said Hugo. ‘Your battery’s flat.’

‘It can’t be.’

‘I’m afraid it is. Try for yourself.’

Duncan tried, getting very wet in the process.

‘We’d better go back in the house. We’ll get soaked out here.’