‘Whereas,’ Alleyn said, ‘you were told, weren’t you, by your mother this afternoon. You went upstairs with her when you returned from the Pegasus and she told you then.’

‘Why!’ Warrender cried out. ‘Why, why, why?’

‘She was angry,’ Richard said. ‘With me.’ He looked at Alleyn. ‘You’ve heard or guessed most of it, apparently. She thought I’d conspired against her.’

‘Yes?’

‘Well – that’s all. That’s how it was.’

Alleyn waited. Richard drove his hands through his hair.

‘All right!’ he cried out. ‘All right! I’ll tell you. I suppose I’ve got to, haven’t I? She accused me of ingratitude and disloyalty. I said I considered I owed her no more than I had already paid. I wouldn’t have said that if she hadn’t insulted Anelida. Then she came quite close to me and – it was horrible – I could see a nerve jumping under her cheek. She kept repeating that I owed her everything – everything, and that I’d insulted her by going behind her back. Then I said she’d no right to assume a controlling interest in either my friendships or my work. She said she had every right. And then it all came out. Everything. It happened because of our anger. We were both very angry. When she’d told me, she laughed as if she’d scored with the line of climax in a big scene. If she hadn’t done that I might have felt some kind of compassion or remorse or something. I didn’t. I felt cheated and sick and empty. I went downstairs and out into the streets and walked about trying to find an appropriate emotion. There was nothing but a sort of faint disgust.’ He moved away and then turned on Alleyn. ‘But I didn’t murder my’ – he caught his breath – ‘my brand-new mother. I’m not, it appears, that kind of bastard.’

Warrender said: ‘For God’s sake, Dicky!’

‘Just for the record,’ Richard said, ‘were there two people called Dakers? A young married couple, killed in a car on the Riviera? Australians, I’ve always been given to understand.’

‘It’s – it’s a family name. My mother was a Dakers.’

‘I see,’ Richard said. ‘I just wondered. It didn’t occur to you to marry her, evidently.’ He stopped short and a look of horror crossed his face. ‘I’m sorry! I’m sorry!’ he cried out. ‘Forgive me, Maurice, it wasn’t I who said that.’

‘My dear chap, of course I wanted to marry her. She wouldn’t have it! She was at the beginning of her career. What could I give her? A serving ensign on a very limited allowance. She – naturally – she wasn’t prepared to throw up her career and follow the drum.’

‘And – Charles?’

‘He was in a different position. Altogether.’

‘Rich? Able to keep her in the style to which she would like to become accustomed?’