‘Yes,’ said Bridget, ‘he had to see me. But you’re muddling things, Donald. We ought to keep them in their right order. Mr Alleyn, we’ve got as far as this afternoon. Well, Donald got so rattled about the telephone and the missing book that in spite of what Wits had said, he felt he had to see him. So after dinner he took a taxi to Wits’s flat and he could see a light under the blind, so he knew Wits was in. Donald still had his own latch-key so he went straight in and up to the flat. Now you go on, Donald.’

Donald finished his whisky and soda and with unsteady fingers lit a fresh cigarette. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell you. When I walked into the sitting-room he was lying on the divan bed. I stood in the middle of the room looking at him. He didn’t move, and he didn’t speak at all loudly. He called me a foul name and told me to get out. I said I wanted to know why he’d behaved as he did. He just lay there and looked at me. I said something about you, sir—I don’t know what—and in a split second he was on his feet. I thought he was going to start a fight. He asked me what the bloody hell I’d said to you about him. I said I’d avoided speaking about him as much as possible. But he began to ask all sorts of questions. God, he did look ugly. You often read about the veins swelling with rage in people’s faces. They did in his. He sat on the edge of the table swinging one foot and his face got sort of dark.’

‘Yes,’ said Alleyn. ‘I can see Captain Withers. Go on.’

‘He said—’ Donald caught his breath. Alleyn saw his fingers tighten round Bridget’s. ‘He said that unless I kept my head and held my tongue he’d begin to talk himself. He said that after all I had quarrelled with Uncle Bunch and I had been in debt and I was Uncle Bunch’s heir. He said if he was in this thing up to his knees I was in it up to my neck. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and pointed his flat finger at my neck. Then he told me to remember, if I didn’t want to commit suicide, that when he left Marsdon House he went to his car and drove to the Matador. I was to say that I’d seen him drive off with his partner.’

‘Did you see this?’

‘No. I left after him. I did think I saw him walking ahead of me towards his car. It was parked in Belgrave Road.’

‘Why, do you suppose, did Withers take this extraordinary attitude when you saw him tonight?’

‘He thought I’d given him away to you. He told me so.’

‘About Leatherhead?’

‘Yes. You said something about—about—’

‘Fleecing lambs,’ said Bridget.