‘Oh, no,’ said Miss Harris, ‘naturally not, Mr Alleyn. It would not have been at all my place to bring it up. When I was given the list of vacant posts at the Friendly Cousins Registry Office I thought this seemed the most suitable, and I—please excuse me, Lady Carrados—I made enquiries, as one does, you know. And I said to my friend Miss Smith: “What an extraordinary coincidence,” because when I learned of Lady Carrados’s former name I realized it must be the same, and I said to Smithy: “I think that must be an omen,” so I applied for the post.’

‘I see,’ said Alleyn, ‘and do you remember Sir Herbert, too?’

‘Oh, yes. At least, I wasn’t quite sure at first, but afterwards I was. Sir Herbert was the gentleman in the car. Perhaps I should explain?’

‘Please do.’

‘I had actually spoken to him.’ She looked apologetically at Carrados. ‘I’m quite sure Sir Herbert has quite forgotten, because I was just a gawky schoolgirl at the time.’

‘That will do, Miss Harris,’ said Carrados violently. ‘You will please not answer any further questions.’

Miss Harris looked extremely startled, turned bright pink, and opened her eyes very wide indeed. She closed her lips in a prudent button.

‘Go on, Miss Harris,’ said Alleyn.

‘Which do you wish me to do, Lady Carrados?’ asked her secretary.

‘I think you had better go on,’ said the faint voice.

‘Very well, Lady Carrados. You see, I had the pleasure of returning a letter that had been left behind at the vicarage.’

‘That is an absolute lie,’ said Carrados, loudly.

‘Pardon me,’ said Miss Harris, ‘but I cannot let that pass. I am speaking the truth.’

‘Thank you, Miss Harris,’ said Alleyn quickly. ‘Would you mind waiting outside for a moment? Fox.’

Fox shepherded her out.

‘By God!’ began Carrados. ‘If you take the word of a—’

‘Wait a moment,’ said Alleyn, ‘I think I shall go on with my story. Our case, Sir Herbert, is that you did, in fact, take this letter, and for some reason never gave it to the lady who afterwards married you. Our case is that, having read the letter, you kept it for eighteen years, in the drawer of a miniature writing-desk in your study.’

‘I protest. I absolutely deny—’

‘You deny this, too?’

‘It is outrageous! I tell you this, sir, if I have any influence—’

‘Just a moment,’ said Alleyn, ‘Lady Carrados is speaking.’

The focus of attention shifted to the woman. She sat there as if she attended a meeting of some society in which she was interested. Her furs, her expensive, unnoticeable clothes, her gloves, her discreet make-up, might have been taken as symbols of controlled good breeding. It was the fierce rigidity of her figure that gave expression to her emotion. Her voice scarcely wavered. Alleyn realized that she was oblivious to her surroundings, and to the presence of other people in the room, and that seemed to him to be the most significant indication of her distress. She spoke directly to her husband.