‘Routine procedure, Miss Emily. Asked him to come to Coombe’s office and make a statement. I doubt if we had a case against him. Too much conjecture. I hoped, by laying so much of the case open, to induce a confession. Once the Wally theory was dismissed, I think Maine would have not allowed Barrimore or anyone else, to be arrested. But I’m glad it turned out as it did.’

Fox came through the gate into Coombe’s garden.

‘Bon jour, Mademoiselle,’ he said laboriously. ‘J’espère que vous êtes en bonne santé ce matin.’

Miss Emily winced. ‘Mr Fox,’ she said in slow but exquisite French. ‘You are, I am sure, a very busy man, but if you can spare an hour twice a week, I think I might be able to give you some assistance with your conversation. I should be delighted to do so.’

Fox asked her if she would be good enough to repeat her statement and as she did so, blushed to the roots of his hair.

‘Mademoiselle,’ he said, ‘c’est bonne, no blast – pardon – bien aimable de vous – I mean – de votre part. Would you really? I can’t think of anything I’d like better.’

‘Alors, c’est entendu,’ said Miss Emily.

IV

Patrick and Jenny sat in his car down by the waterfront. Miss Emily’s luggage and Jenny’s and Patrick’s suitcases were roped into the open boot. Miss Emily had settled to spend a few days at the Manor Park Hotel and had invited them both to be her guests. Patrick felt he should stay with his mother but she was urgent for him to go.

‘It made me feel terribly inadequate,’ he said. ‘As if somehow I must have failed her. And yet, you know, I thought we got on awfully well together, always. I’m fond of my mama.’

‘Of course you are. And she adores you. I expect it’s just that she wants to be by herself until – well, until the first ghastly shock’s over.’

‘By herself? With him there?’

‘He’s not behaving badly, Patrick. Is he?’

‘No. Oddly enough, no.’ He looked thoughtfully at Jenny. ‘I knew about Bob Maine,’ he said. ‘Of course I did. I’ve never been able to make out why I didn’t like it. Not for conventional reasons. If you say Œdipus Complex I shall be furious.’

‘I won’t say it then.’

‘The thing is, I suppose, one doesn’t like one’s mama being a femme fatale. And she is, a bit, you know. I’m so sorry for her,’ he said violently, ‘that it makes me angry. Why should that be? I really don’t understand it at all.’

‘Do you know, I think it’s impossible for us to take the idea of older people being in love. It’s all wrong, I expect, and I daresay it’s the arrogance of youth or something.’