‘Yes. You see Maurice—Captain Withers—has very kindly offered to advise me and—I mean right now Captain Withers has in mind a little business venture in which I am interested, and I naturally require to talk things over so—you see—?’

‘Yes,’ said Alleyn gently, ‘I do see. This venture of Captain Withers is of course the club at Leatherhead, isn’t it?’

‘Why, yes, but—’

‘Now then,’ said Alleyn quickly, ‘about last night. Lord Robert offered to see you home, didn’t he? You refused or avoided giving an answer. Did you go home alone?’

She might as well have asked him how much he knew, so clearly did he read the question in her eyes. He thanked his stars that he had made such a fuss over Withers’s telephone. Evidently Withers had not rung her up to warn her what to say. Frightened his call would be tapped, thought Alleyn with satisfaction, and decided to risk a further assumption. He said:

‘You saw Captain Withers again after the ball, didn’t you?’

‘What makes you think that?’

‘I have every reason to believe it. Captain Withers’s car was parked in a side street off Belgrave Square. How long did you sit there waiting for him?’

‘I don’t admit I sat there.’

‘Then if Captain Withers tells me he took a partner to the Matador last night after the ball I am to conclude that it was not you?’

‘Captain Withers would want to protect me. He’s very, very thoughtful.’

‘Can you not understand,’ said Alleyn, ‘that it is greatly to your advantage and his, if you can prove that you both got into his car and drove to the Matador last night?’

‘Why? I don’t want it said that—’

‘Mrs Halcut-Hackett,’ said Alleyn: ‘Do you want an alibi for yourself and Captain Withers or don’t you?’

She opened her mouth once or twice like a gaping fish, looked wildly at Fox and burst into tears.

Fox got up, walked to the far end of the room, and stared with heavy tact at the second print in the Nightcap series. Alleyn waited while scarlet claws scuffled in an elaborate handbag. Out came a long piece of monogrammed tulle. She jerked at it violently.

Something clattered to the floor. Alleyn darted forward and picked it up.

It was a gold cigarette-case with a medallion set in the lid and surrounded by brilliants.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Rose Birnbaum

MRS HALCUT-HACKETT dabbed at the pouches under her eyes as if her handkerchief was made of blotting-paper.

‘You frighten me,’ she said. ‘You frighten me so. I’m just terrified.’

Alleyn turned the cigarette-case over in his long hands.