‘I’m going,’ Alleyn said, ‘to cling to Peregrine Jay’s notes as Mr Conducis was reported to have clung to his raft.’

‘I still don’t know exactly what line we take,’ Fox objected.

‘We let him dictate it,’ Alleyn rejoined. ‘At first. Come on.’

Mawson admitted them to that so arrogantly unobtrusive interior and a pale young man advanced to meet them. Alleyn remembered him from his former visit. The secretary.

‘Mr Alleyn. And – er?’

‘Inspector Fox.’

‘Yes. How do you do? Mr Conducis is in the library. He’s been very much distressed by this business. Awfully upset. Particularly about the boy. We’ve sent flowers and all that nonsense, of course, and we’re in touch with the theatre people. Mr Conducis is most anxious that everything possible should be done. Well – shall we? You’ll find him, perhaps, rather nervous, Mr Alleyn. He has been so very distressed.’

They walked soundlessly to the library door. A clock mellifluously struck six.

‘Here is Superintendent Alleyn, sir, and Inspector Fox.’

‘Yes. Thank you.’

Mr Conducis was standing at the far end of the library. He had been looking out of the window, it seemed. In the evening light the long room resembled an interior by some defunct academician: Orchardson, perhaps, or The Hon. John Collier. The details were of an undated excellence but the general effect was strangely Edwardian and so was Mr Conducis. He might have been a deliberately understated monument to Affluence.

As he moved towards them Alleyn wondered if Mr Conducis was ill or if his pallor was brought about by some refraction of light from the apple-green walls. He wore a gardenia in his coat and an edge of crimson silk showed above his breast pocket.

‘Good evening,’ he said. ‘I am pleased that you were able to come. Glad to see you again.’

He offered his hand. Large and white, it withdrew itself – it almost snatched itself away – from contact.

Mawson came in with a drinks tray, put it down, hovered, was glanced at and withdrew.

‘You will have a drink,’ Mr Conducis stated.

‘Thank you, but no,’ Alleyn said. ‘Not on duty, I’m afraid. This won’t stop you from having one, of course.’

‘I am an abstainer,’ said Mr Conducis. ‘Shall we sit down?’

They did so. The crimson leather chairs received them like sultans.

Alleyn said: ‘You send word you wanted to see us, sir, but we would in any case have asked for an interview! Perhaps the best way of tackling this unhappy business will be for us to hear any questions that it may have occurred to you to ask. We will then, if you please, continue the conversation on what I can only call routine investigation lines.’

Mr Conducis raised his clasped hands to his mouth and glanced briefly over at Alleyn. He then lowered his gaze to his fingers. Alleyn thought: ‘I suppose that’s how he looks when he’s manipulating his gargantuan undertakings.’