Bridget’s voice at last stopped. Alleyn, who had sat in his chair, was silent for so long that at last she turned from the fire and looked into his face.

‘It’s a queer story, isn’t it?’ she said.

‘Very queer, indeed,’ said Alleyn. ‘Have you ever told anyone else about it?’

‘No. Well, only Donald.’ She wriggled across the hearthrug. ‘It’s funny,’ she said. ‘I suppose I ought to be frightened of you, but I’m not. Why’s Donna coming?’

‘She wants to collect you, and see me,’ said Alleyn absently.

‘Everybody wants to see you.’ She clasped her hands over her knees. ‘Don’t they?’ insisted Bridget.

‘For no very flattering reason, I’m afraid.’

‘Well, I think you’re really rather a lamb,’ said Bridget.

‘Tell me,’ said Alleyn, ‘do you think anyone else knows the secret of that French writing-case?’

‘I shouldn’t think so. You’d never know unless somebody showed you.’

‘None of the servants?’

‘I’m not sure. Bart slammed the drawer shut as soon as Sir Daniel came in.’

‘Has Sir Daniel ever been alone in that room?’

‘Sir Dan? Good heavens, you don’t think my angelic Sir Dan had anything to do with Bart’s beastly letter?’

‘I simply want to clear things up.’

‘Well, as a matter of fact I don’t think he’s been in the study before or since and he was never alone there that day. When Sir Dan comes, the servants always show him straight upstairs. Bart hates his room to be used for visitors.’

‘Has Dimitri, the catering man, ever been alone in that room?’

‘Why—I don’t know. Yes, now you come to mention it he did interview Donna there, about a month before our ball-dance. I went down first and he was alone in the room.’

‘When was this? Can you remember the date?’

‘Let me see. I’ll try. Yes. Yes, I can. It was on the tenth of May. We were going to Newmarket and Dimitri came early in the morning because of that.’

‘Would you swear he was alone in the room?’

‘Yes, yes, I would. But, please, what does it mean?’

‘See here,’ said Alleyn. ‘I want you to forget all about this. Don’t speak of it to anyone, not even to Donald. Understood?’

‘Yes, but—’

‘I want your promise.’

‘All right, I promise.’

‘Solemnly?’

‘Solemnly.’

The front-door bell rang.

‘Here’s your mother,’ said Alleyn.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The Dance is Wound Up

WHEN ALLEYN OPENED the door to Evelyn Carrados, he saw her as a dark still figure against the lighted street. Her face was completely shadowed and it was impossible for him to glean anything from it. So that when she walked into the sitting-room he was not prepared for her extraordinary pallor, her haunted eyes and the drawn nervousness of her mouth. He remembered that she had gone to her room before she missed Bridget, and he realized with compassion that she had removed her complexion and neglected to replace it. Perhaps Bridget felt something of the same compassion, for she uttered a little cry and ran to her mother. Lady Carrados, using that painful gesture of all distracted mothers, held Bridget in her arms. Her thin hands were extraordinarily expressive.