‘You’re perfectly right,’ said the Major. He went out. Alleyn heard him go into the private and pushed back the slide. The Major was pouring himself a Scotch. He saw Alleyn and said: ‘Can I persuade you? No. S’pose not. Not the drill.’

‘Come back,’ Alleyn said.

He swallowed his whisky neat and returned.

‘Better,’ he said. ‘Needed it.’ He sat down. ‘There’s a reasonable explanation,’ he said.

‘Good. Let’s have it.’

‘I followed her.’

‘Who? Miss Pride?’

‘That’s right. Now, look at it this way. I wake. Boiled owl. Want a drink of water. Very well. I get up. Raining cassandogs. All v’y fine. Look outer th’window. Cassandogs. And there she is with her bloody great brolly, falling herself in, down below. Left wheel and into the path. What’s a man going to do? Coupler aspirins and into some togs. Trench coat. Hat. Boots. See what I mean? You can’t trust her an inch. Where was I?’

‘Following Miss Pride along the path to the enclosure.’

‘Certainly. She’d gained on me. All right. Strategy of indirect approach. Keep under cover. Which I did. Just like you said, old boy. Perfectly correct. Don’t fire till you see the whites of their eyes.’ He leered at Alleyn.

‘Do you mean that you confronted her?’

‘Me! No, thank you!’

‘You mean you kept under cover until she’d gone past you on her way back to the hotel.’

‘What I said. Or did I?’

‘Then you went to the enclosure?’

‘Nasherally.’

‘You read the notice and threw it aside?’

‘ ‘Course.’

‘And then? What did you do?’

‘Came back.’

‘Did you see Wally Trehern?’

The Major stared. ‘I did not.’

‘Did you meet anyone?’

A vein started out on Barrimore’s forehead. Suddenly, he looked venomous.

‘Not a soul,’ he said loudly.

‘Did you see anyone?’

‘No?’

‘You met Miss Cost. You must have done so. She was on the path a few minutes after Miss Pride got back. You either met her at the enclosure itself or on the path. Which was it?’

‘I didn’t see her. I didn’t meet her.’

‘Will you sign a statement to that effect?’

‘I’ll be damned if I do.’ Whether through shock or by an astonishing effort of will, he had apparently got himself under control. ‘I’ll see you in hell first,’ he said.

‘And that’s your last word?’

‘Not quite.’ He got up and confronted Alleyn, staring into his face. ‘If there’s any more of this,’ he said. ‘I’ll ring up the Yard and tell your O.C. you’re a prejudiced and therefore an untrustworthy officer. I’ll have you court-martialled, by God! Or whatever they do in your show.’

‘I really think you’d better not,’ Alleyn said mildly.