‘Last? I don’t know. Striking an attitude on the lawn about half-past three – or a quarter to four perhaps.’

‘And you didn’t see her after that?’

‘No. Why?’

‘I wondered – because after four o’clock nobody seems to have seen her. Lady Stubbs has – vanished, Mr Weyman.’

‘Vanished! Our Hattie?’

‘That surprises you?’

‘Yes, it does rather…What’s she up to, I wonder?’

‘D’you know Lady Stubbs well, Mr Weyman?’

‘Never met her till I came down here four or five days ago.’

‘Have you formed any opinions about her?’

‘I should say she knows which side her bread is buttered better than most,’ said Michael Weyman dryly. ‘A very ornamental young woman and knows how to make the most of it.’

‘But mentally not very active? Is that right?’

‘Depends what you mean by mentally,’ said Michael Weyman. ‘I wouldn’t describe her as an intellectual. But if you’re thinking that she’s not all there, you’re wrong.’ A tone of bitterness came into his voice. ‘I’d say she was very much all there. Nobody more so.’

The inspector’s eyebrows rose.

‘That’s not the generally accepted opinion.’

‘For some reason she likes playing the dim nitwit. I don’t know why. But as I’ve said before, in my opinion, she’s very much all there.’

The inspector studied him for a moment, then he said:

‘And you really can’t get any nearer to exact times and places between the hours I have mentioned?’

‘Sorry.’ Weyman spoke jerkily. ‘I’m afraid I can’t. Rotten memory, never any good about time.’ He added, ‘Finished with me?’

As the inspector nodded, he left the room quickly.

‘And I’d like to know,’ said the inspector, half to himself and half to Hoskins, ‘what there’s been between him and her Ladyship. Either he’s made a pass at her and she’s turned him down, or there’s been some kind of a dust-up.’ He went on, ‘What would you say was the general opinion round these parts about Sir George and his lady?’

‘She’s daft,’ said Constable Hoskins.

‘I know you think that, Hoskins. Is that the accepted view?’

‘I’d say so.’

‘And Sir George – is he liked?’

‘He’s liked well enough. He’s a good sportsman and he knows a bit about farming. The old lady’s done a lot to help.’

‘What old lady?’

‘Mrs Folliat who lives at the Lodge here.’

‘Oh, of course. The Folliats used to own this place, didn’t they?’

‘Yes, and it’s owing to the old lady that Sir George and Lady Stubbs have been taken up as well as they have. Got ’em in with the nobs everywhere, she has.’

‘Paid for doing so, do you think?’