‘The clerk fellah’s on in ten minutes. What d’you mean? I’m all right.’

‘Yes, of course.’

Alleyn said to Jenny: ‘Miss Pride was thinking about a bath and bed when I left her.’

‘She’s going. In the morning,’ said the Major, and laughed.

‘Going!’ Jenny and Patrick exclaimed together. ‘Miss Pride!’

‘Yes,’ Alleyn said. ‘It seems a sensible move. I wonder if you can tell me whether the causeway’s negotiable and if not, whether there’ll be a ferryman on tap.’

‘It’ll be negotiable,’ Patrick said, ‘but not very pleasant. Jenny and I are going down. We’ll row you across, sir. It won’t take ten minutes.’

‘That’s very civil of you. Are you sure?’

‘Perfectly. We’d thought of taking the boat out anyway.’

‘Then in that case – ’ Alleyn turned to Major Barrimore. ‘Good night, sir.’

‘G’night,’ he said. When they had moved away he called after Alleyn. ‘If you put her up to it, you’ve done us a damn’ good turn. Have a drink on it, won’t you?’

‘Thank you very much but I really must be off. Good night.’

They went out of doors. The sky had cleared and was alive with stars. The air was rain-washed and fresh.

As they walked down the steps Patrick said abruptly: ‘I’m afraid my step-father was not exactly in his best form.’

‘No doubt he’s been rather highly tried.’

‘No doubt,’ said Patrick shortly.

‘You were at the Festival, weren’t you?’ Jenny asked. ‘With Mr Coombe?’

‘I was, yes.’

‘You don’t have to be polite about it,’ Patrick said. ‘The burning question is whether it was as funny as it was embarrassing. I can’t really make up my mind.’

‘I suppose it depends upon how far one’s sympathies were engaged.’

They had reached the half-way bench. Alleyn halted for a moment and glanced up the dark slope above it.

‘Yes,’ Jenny said. ‘That was where she was.’

‘You arrived on the scene, I think, didn’t you? Miss Emily said you were a great help. What did happen exactly?’

Jenny told him how she had come down the steps, heard the patter of stones, Miss Emily’s cry, and a high-pitched laugh. She described how she found Miss Emily with the cut on her neck. ‘Very much shaken,’ said Jenny, ‘but full of fight.’

‘A high-pitched laugh?’ Alleyn repeated.

‘Well, really more of a sort of squawk like – ‘Jenny stopped short. ‘Just an odd sort of noise,’ she said.

‘Like Wally Trehern, for instance?’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘He gave a sort of squawk this afternoon when that regrettable green girl appeared.’

‘Did he?’

‘You taught him at school, didn’t you?’

‘How very well informed you are, Mr Alleyn,’ said Patrick airily.

‘Coombe happened to mention it.’

‘Look,’ Jenny said, ‘your visit isn’t really unofficial, is it?’