‘We’re not looking for anything specific,’ he said. ‘I’d like to find out how she stood, financially. Correspondence, if any. It would be lovely if she kept a diary and if there’s a dump of old newspapers, they’ll have to be gone over carefully. Look for any cuts. Bailey, you’d better pick up a decent set of prints if you can find them. Cashbox – tooth-glass – she had false teeth – take your pick. Thompson, will you handle the shelves in here? You might work the back premises and the bedroom, Fox. I’ll start on the parlour.’

He approached Cissy Pollock who removed her headphones and simpered.

‘You must have known Miss Cost very well,’ he began. ‘How long have you been here with her, Miss Pollock?’

A matter of a year and up, it appeared. Ever since the shop was made a post office. Miss Cost had sold her former establishment at Dunlowman and had converted a cottage into the premises as they now stood. She had arranged for a wholesale firm to provide the Green Ladies, which she herself painted, and for a regional printer to reproduce the rhyme-sheets. Cissy talked quite readily of these activities and Miss Cost emerged from her narrative as an experienced businesswoman. ‘She were proper sharp,’ Cissy said appreciatively. When Alleyn spoke of yesterday’s Festival she relapsed briefly into giggles but this seemed to be a token manifestation, obligatory upon the star-performer. Miss Cost had inaugurated a Drama Circle of which the Festival had been the first-fruit and Cissy herself, the leading light. He edged cautiously towards the less public aspects of Miss Cost’s life and character. Had she many close friends? None that Cissy knew of though she did send Christmas cards. She hardly got any herself, outside local ones.

‘So you were her best friend, then?’

‘Aw well,’ said Cissy and shuffled her feet.

‘What about gentlemen friends?’

This produced a renewed attack of giggles. After a great deal of trouble he elicited the now familiar story of advance and frustration. Miss Cost had warned Cissy repeatedly of the gentlemen and had evidently dropped a good many dark hints about improper overtures made to herself. Cissy was not pretty and was no longer very young. He thought that, between them, they had probably indulged in continuous fantasy and the idea rather appalled him. On Major Barrimore’s name being introduced in a roundabout fashion, she became uncomfortable and said, under pressure, that Miss Cost was proper set against him, and that he’d treated her bad. She would say nothing more under this heading. She remembered Miss Cost’s visit to the hospital. It appeared that she had tried the Spring for her moles but without success. Alleyn ventured to ask if Miss Cost liked Dr Maine. Cissy, with a sudden burst of candour, said she fair worshipped him.