They separated. Alleyn tapped on the boudoir door and went in.

Pinky sat in an armchair with a magazine, Timon Gantry was finishing a conversation on the telephone and Bertie, petulant and flushed, was reading a rare edition of ’Tis Pity She’s a Whore. When they saw Alleyn the two men got up and Pinky put down her magazine as if she was ashamed of it.

Alleyn introduced himself. ‘This is just to say I’m very sorry to keep you waiting about.’

Gantry said: ‘It’s damned awkward. I’ve had to tell people over the telephone.’

‘There’s no performance involved, is there?’

‘No. But there’s a new play going into rehearsal. Opening in three weeks. One has to cope.’

‘Of course,’ Alleyn said. ‘One does, indeed,’ and went out.

‘What a superb-looking man,’ Bertie said listlessly and returned to his play.

Warrender and Charles had the air of silence about them. It was not, Alleyn fancied, the kind of silence that falls naturally between two cousins united in a common sorrow: they seemed at odds with each other. He could have sworn his arrival was a relief rather than an annoyance. He noticed that the study, like the dressing-room, had been furnished and decorated by a perfectionist with restraint judgment and a very great deal of money. There was a kind of relationship between the reserve of these two men and the setting in which he found them. He thought that they had probably been sitting there for a long time without speech. A full decanter and two untouched glasses stood between them on a small and exquisite table.

Charles began to rise. Alleyn said: ‘Please, don’t move,’ and he sank heavily back again. Warrender stood up. His eyes were red and his face patched with uneven colour.

‘Bad business, this,’ he said. ‘What?’

‘Yes,’ Alleyn said. ‘Very bad.’ He looked at Charles. ‘I’m sorry, sir, that at the moment we’re not doing anything to make matters easier.’

With an obvious effort Charles said: ‘Sit down, won’t you? Alleyn, isn’t it? I know your name, of course.’

Warrender pushed a chair forward.

‘Will you have a drink?’ Charles asked.

‘No, thank you very much. I won’t trouble you longer than I can help. There’s a certain amount of unavoidable business to be got through. There will be an inquest and, I’m afraid, a post-mortem. In addition to that we’re obliged to check, as far as we’re able, the events leading to the accident. All this, I know, is very distressing and I’m sorry.’

Charles lifted a hand and let it fall.

Warrender said: ‘Better make myself scarce.’

‘No,’ Alleyn said. ‘I’d be glad if you waited a moment.’

Warrender was looking fixedly at Alleyn. He tapped himself above the heart and made a very slight gesture towards Charles. Alleyn nodded.