‘I see. Why were you up? Oh well, that doesn’t matter at the moment. Mrs Wilson. You think there was someone in your bed.’ The slightly drawn-out words proclaimed his scepticism.

‘I know there was. Someone . . . or something.’ Carol’s voice was steady, but it was a steadiness fragile in extent. ‘I felt a touch – it was icy! – I thought Paul had been up – had just come back – I . . . I was’ – she swallowed – ‘held tightly so that I couldn’t move. I couldn’t turn. And then when I saw Paul enter the room I knew I was being held by . . . something . . .’

‘Quite so. You saw nothing?’

‘It was behind me.’ Her voice was almost hushed with horror. ‘It kept behind me . . . holding me. When it pressed against me it felt like ice. I heard a sort of gasping-out-of-air sound. And when Paul appeared I managed one glance round before – before – well, before I started screaming.’

‘And saw – ?’

‘I don’t know. There was a gap in the bedclothes.’

‘A gap?’

‘A sort of hollow with the clothes heaped above it. It was black and deep – ’ Abruptly she shuddered.

‘A hollow? What do you mean?’

‘I don’t know!’ She shook her head violently. ‘It was like a black pit with something in it. Something horrible. There was something. I know that. And it knew what it was doing.’

‘Knew what it was doing?’ Bourne raised an eyebrow.

‘It had’ – she hesitated – ‘purpose. It – it – oh God! It stroked me!’

With the slightest uplifting of a shoulder Bourne dismissed the whole episode.

‘Now, Mrs Wilson,’ he said urbanely, ‘you must keep things in perspective. No one was found in the room. We’ve searched it thoroughly. Your husband has stated he saw nothing and that no one could have passed out of the room while he was here. Now it is possible that you were startled out of a deep sleep by your husband’s arrival, or you had a nightmare brought on by the unusual circumstances of the house and its history – ’

‘That’s not true! I was not asleep. I was awake. I know I was not alone in that bed. It held me – ’

‘Oh, but it’s surely possible the bedclothes themselves were tucked in so tightly they seemed to hamper and cling to you – ’

‘No!’ Tears sprang to her eyes, her head turned towards her husband. ‘There was something, Paul. I swear it. Something vile!’ Her voice rose dangerously high.

‘Mrs Wilson.’ Bourne’s tones were the tones of an adult reasoning with a child. ‘You really should – ’

‘Bourne, be quiet! Not another word,’ Meredith cut in decisively, so curtly that the other man was left open-mouthed. ‘Before you go on I insist that you listen to the tape that Hunt made.’

‘Tape? What tape?’

Meredith glanced round the company before looking at his watch.