She took a cigarette and tilted her face up for him to give her a light. A lock of her short dark hair had fallen across her forehead. Alleyn lit the cigarette, threw the match into the fire and tweaked the lock of hair.

‘Abominable woman,’ he said abruptly. ‘I’m so glad you’ve come to see me.’

‘I tell you what,’ said Troy more amiably. ‘I’ve always been frightened of the whole business. Love and so on.’

‘The physical side?’

‘Yes, that, but much more than that. The whole business. The breaking down of all one’s reserves. The mental as well as the physical intimacy.’

‘My mind to me a kingdom is.’

‘I feel it wouldn’t be,’ said Troy.

‘I feel it rather terrifyingly still would be. Don’t you think that in the closest possible union there must always be moments when one feels oneself completely separate, completely alone? Surely it must be so, otherwise we would not be so astonished on the rare occasions when we read each other’s thoughts.’

Troy looked at him with a sort of shy determination that made his heart turn over.

‘Do you read my thoughts?’ she asked.

‘Not very clearly, Troy. I dare not wish I could.’

‘I do yours, sometimes. That is one of the things that sends my defences up.’

‘If you could read them now,’ said Alleyn, ‘you might well be frightened.’

Vassily came in with tea. He had, Alleyn saw at a glance, excitedly rushed out to his favourite delicatessen shop round the corner and purchased caviare. He had made a stack of buttered toast, he had cut up many lemons, and he had made tea in an enormous Stuart pot of Lady Alleyn’s which her son had merely borrowed to show to a collector. Vassily had also found time to put on his best coat. His face was wreathed in smiles of embarrassing significance. He whispered to himself as he set this extraordinary feast out on a low table in front of Troy.

‘Please, please,’ said Vassily. ‘If there is anysink more, sir. Should I not perhaps—?’

‘No, no,’ said Alleyn hastily, ‘that will do admirably.’

‘Caviare!’ said Troy. ‘Oh, how glad I am—a heavenly tea.’

Vassily broke into a loud laugh, excused and bowed himself out, and shut the doors behind him with the stealth of a soubrette in a French comedy.

‘You’ve transported the old fool,’ said Alleyn.

‘What is he?’

‘A Russian carry-over from a former case of mine. He very nearly got himself arrested. Can you really eat caviare and drink Russian tea? He’s put some milk there.’

‘I don’t want milk and I shall eat any quantity of caviare,’ said Troy.

When they had finished and Vassily had taken away the tea things, Troy said: ‘I must go.’

‘Not yet.’

‘Oughtn’t you to be at Scotland Yard?’

‘They’ll ring me up if I’m wanted. I’m due there later on.’

‘We’ve never once mentioned Bunchy,’ said Troy.

‘No.’

‘Shall you get an early night tonight?’