Jeremy Hunt added quickly: ‘It’d really be something if we could get them on tape!’

With a crashing sense of dismay Paul suddenly realized the trap he had dug for himself. He saw the other occupants in the house taking it in turn to camp out in their bedroom. Quickly he sought for some way of dissuading them. And as before Meredith came to his aid.

‘You’re quite right, Captain Pollard. You too, Mr Hunt. We should try to record these phenomena. Nevertheless there’s no guarantee that it’ll happen again tonight. Apart from that, if we took turns to listen from the Wilsons’ bedroom it would mean explaining to Mrs Wilson something of what we were after.’

‘We could move them into another bedroom. Isn’t bedroom seven unoccupied?’ Paul saw that Pollard seemed to have taken the bit between his teeth.

Meredith shook his head.

‘No, that won’t do. It would still mean explaining to Mrs Wilson. And in any case, bedroom seven is the one with the smashed window. Although we’ve boarded it up, it is draughty and icy-cold. No. I suggest we see what transpires tonight. Mr Wilson was wakened by the noises last night. If he is wakened again tonight, he should come and rouse the men.’

‘Well,’ said Pollard doubtfully, ‘if you think that’s the best approach tonight.’

‘I do. We could spend a whole night watching and get nothing.’

The lounge-door opened and Carol entered. She smiled.

‘Gentlemen, dinner is served.’

As they rose, Meredith looked at the other men.

‘Let’s leave this until after dinner. All right?’

They nodded. They began to drift out of the lounge in pairs. Behind Pollard, Paul saw him turn towards Meredith.

‘Do you know what room Bernard Gray was in when he was found?’

The bulky man glanced once towards the door to make sure Carol was out of earshot.

‘The tower-room.’

It was a surprisingly pleasant meal at the big table in the dining-room. Unlike the alfresco arrangements of the previous evening, the table was properly set on this occasion. The fire and lamplight co-operated in producing at least an illusion of comfort. Pollard described some of his lighter experiences with NATO forces in Europe. Jeremy Hunt, aided and abetted by Joyce Mair, told a number of wildly slanderous tales about various television personalities they had worked with. Even Bourne, apart from indulging in one or two astringent exchanges with Meredith, seemed more agreeable than before.

Towards the end of the meal, when they were all supplied with coffee, Bourne looked at his watch.

‘Eight-forty-five. Do you think we could be ready by nine-thirty to have another session with Ann?’

‘I don’t see why not,’ said Hunt. ‘Cliff. Will you and Harry get everything set up in the lounge when you’ve finished coffee? We’ll let you off doing the dishes. I take it you don’t mind us getting this on film?’