In Mary Bellamy’s bedroom all the windows were open. An evening breeze stirred the curtains and the ranks of tulips. Dr Harkness knelt beside a pool of rose-coloured chiffon from which protruded, like rods, two legs finished with high-heeled shoes and two naked arms whose clenched hands glittered with diamonds. Diamonds were spattered across the rigid plane of the chest and shone through a hank of disarranged hair. A length of red chiffon lay across the face and this was a good thing.

Dr Harkness had removed his coat. His ice-wet shirt stuck to his spine. His ear was laid against the place from which he had pulled away the red chiffon.

He straightened up, looked closely into the face, reveiled it and got to his feet.

‘I’m afraid there’s nothing whatever to be done,’ he said.

Charles said: ‘There must be. You don’t know. There must be. Try. Try something. My God, try!’

Warrender, in his short-stepped, square-shouldered way, walked over to Harkness and looked down for a moment.

‘No good,’ he said. ‘Have to face it. What?’

Charles sat on the bed and rubbed his freckled hand across his mouth. ‘I can’t believe it’s happened,’ he said. ‘It’s – there – it’s happened. And I can’t believe it.’

Florence burst noisily into tears.

Dr Harkness turned to her. ‘You,’ he said. ‘Florence, isn’t it? Try to control yourself, there’s a good girl. Did you find her like this?’

Florence nodded and sobbed out something indistinguishable.

‘But she was …’ He glanced at Charles. ‘Conscious?’

Florence said: ‘Not to know me. Not to speak,’ and broke down completely.

‘Were the windows open?’

Florence shook her head.

‘Did you open them?’

She shook her head again. ‘I didn’t think to – I got such a wicked shock – I didn’t think.…’

‘I opened them,’ Charles said.

‘First thing to be done,’ Warrender muttered.

Gantry, who from the time of his entry had stood motionless near the door, joined the others. ‘But what was it?’ he asked. ‘What happened?’

Warrender said unevenly: ‘Perfectly obvious. She used that bloody spray thing there. I said it was dangerous. Only this morning.’

‘What thing?’

Warrender stooped. The tin of Slaypest lay on its side close to the clenched right hand. A trickle of dark fluid stained the carpet. ‘This,’ he said.

‘Better leave it,’ Dr Harkness said sharply.

‘What?’

‘Better leave it where it is.’ He looked at Gantry. ‘It’s some damned insecticide. For plants. The tin’s smothered in warnings.’

‘We told her,’ Warrender said. ‘Look at it.’

‘I said don’t touch it.’

Warrender straightened up. The blood had run into his face. ‘Sorry,’ he said, and then: ‘Why not?’

‘You’re a bit too ready with your hands. I’m wet as hell and half-frozen.’

‘You were tight. Best cure, my experience.’