‘—I can’t describe the agony, Helena,’ quacked the telephone, ‘I really thought I should swoon with it. I felt Sir Daniel must examine me without losing a moment, so I told my chauffeur to look out for him because I promise you I was too ill to distinguish one man from another. Then I saw him coming out of the door. “Sir Daniel, Sir Daniel!” He did not hear me and all would have been lost if one of the linkmen had not seen my distress and drawn Sir Daniel’s attention to me. He crossed the street and as a very old patient I don’t mind admitting to you, Helena, I was rather disappointed but of course with the country in the state it is one must make sacrifices. He was extremely agitated. The Prime Minister had developed some terrible complaint. Please tell nobody of this, Helena. I know you are as silent as the grave but Sir Daniel would no doubt be gravely compromised if it were ever to leak out. Under those conditions I could do nothing but bear my cross in silence and it was not until he had positively run away that I thought of driving him to Downing Street. By the time my fool of a chauffeur had started the car, of course, it was too late. No doubt Sir Daniel had raced to the nearest taxi-cab and, although I have rung up to inquire tactfully, he is continually engaged, so that one fears the worst.’

‘Mad!’ said Lady Alleyn to her son.

‘—I can’t tell you how much it has upset me but I hope I know my duty, Helena, and having just recollected that your boy was a constable I said to myself that he should learn of this extraordinary man whom I am firmly persuaded is an assassin. What other explanation can there be?’

‘Sir Daniel Davidson!’ exclaimed Lady Alleyn.

‘Good heavens, Helena, are you mad! For pity’s sake tell your son to come and see me himself in order that there may be no mistake. How could it be my poor Sir Daniel, who was already on his way to Downing Street? I attribute my appalling condition at this moment to the shock I received. Do you remember a play called The Face at the Window? I was reminded of it. I assure you I screamed aloud—my chauffeur will bear witness. The nose was flat and white and the moustache quite frightful, like some hairy monster gummed to the window-pane. The eyes rolled, I could do nothing but clutch my pearls. ‘Go away!’ I screamed. My chauffeur, fool that he is, had seen nothing and by the time he roused himself it had disappeared.’

Alleyn held a sheet of paper before his mother’s nose. On it he had written: ‘Ask her who it was.’

‘Have you any idea who it was, Lucy?’ asked Lady Alleyn.