Mechanically he stacked the magazines up in their corner and, after a moment’s hesitation, disordered them again. He walked up and down the room whistling a phrase of Cliff’s music. ‘Oh, well!’ he thought. ‘It’s a long shot and I may be off the mark.’ But he stared dolefully at the piano and presently began again to pick out the same phrase, first in the treble and then, very dejectedly, in the bass, swearing when the keys jammed. He shut the lid at last, sat in a rakish old chair and began to fill his pipe. ‘I shall be obliged to send them all away on ludicrous errands,’ he muttered, ‘and get a toll call through to Jackson. Is this high fantasy, or is it murder?’ The door opened. A woman stood on the threshold.

She looked dark against the brilliance of sunshine outside. He could see that the hand with which she had opened the door was now pressed against her lips. She was a middle-aged woman, plainly dressed. She was still for a moment and then stepped back. The strong sunshine fell across her face, which was heavy and pale for a countrywoman’s. She said breathlessly: ‘I heard the piano. I thought it was Cliff.’

‘I’m afraid Cliff would not be flattered,’ Alleyn said. ‘I lack technique!’ He moved towards her.

She backed away. ‘It was the piano,’ she said again. ‘Hearing it after so long.’

‘Do the men never play it?’

‘Not in the daytime,’ she said hurriedly. ‘And I kind of remember the tune.’ She tidied her hair nervously. ‘I’m sure I didn’t mean to intrude,’ she said. ‘Excuse me.’ She was moving away when Alleyn stopped her.

‘Please don’t go,’ he said. ‘You’re Cliff’s mother, aren’t you?’

‘That’s right.’

‘I’d be grateful if you would spare me a moment. It won’t be much more than a moment. Really. My name, by the way, is Alleyn.’

‘Pleased to meet you,’ she said woodenly.

He stood aside, holding back the door. After a little hesitation she went into the room and stood there, staring straight before her, her fingers still moving against her lips. Alleyn left the door open. ‘Will you sit down?’ he said.

‘I won’t bother, thanks.’

He moved the chair forward and waited. She sat on the edge of it, unwillingly.

‘I expect you’ve heard why I’m here,’ Alleyn said gently. ‘Or have you?’

She nodded, still not looking at him.

‘I want you to help me, if you will.’

‘I can’t help you,’ she said. ‘I don’t know the first thing about it. None of us do. Not me, or Mr Johns or my boy.’ Her voice shook. She added rapidly with an air of desperation, ‘You leave my boy alone, Mr Alleyn.’

‘Well,’ said Alleyn, ‘I’ve got to talk to people, you know. That’s my job.’