Perhaps each of them waited for the other to reply. After a moment Warrender barked out two words. ‘Lovers’ tiff?’ he suggested.

‘You think it might be that?’

‘I think it might be that?’

‘I think,’ Warrender said angrily, ‘that whatever it was it’s got nothing to do with this – this tragedy. Good lord. why should it?’

‘I really do assure you,’ Alleyn said, ‘that I wouldn’t worry you about these matters if I didn’t think it was necessary.’

‘Matter of opinion,’ Warrender said.

‘Yes. A matter of opinion and mine may turn out to be wrong.’

He could see that Warrender was on the edge of some outburst and was restrained, it appeared, only by the presence of Charles Templeton.

‘Perhaps,’ Alleyn said, ‘we might just make quite sure that Mr Dakers didn’t, in fact, come back. After all, it was a biggish party. Might he not have slipped in, unnoticed, and gone out again for some perfectly explainable reason? The servants might have noticed. If you would …’

Warrender jumped at this. ‘Certainly! I’ll come out with you.’ And after a moment: ‘D’you mind, Charles?’

With extraordinary vehemence Charles said: ‘Do what you like. If he comes back I don’t want to see him. I …’ He passed an unsteady hand across his eyes. ‘Sorry,’ he said, presumably to Alleyn. ‘This has been a bit too much for me.’

‘We’ll leave you to yourself,’ Alleyn said. ‘Would you like Dr Harkness to come in?’

‘No. No. No. If I might be left alone. That’s all.’

‘Of course.’

They went out. The hall was deserted except for the constable who waited anonymously in a corner. Alleyn said: ‘Will you excuse me for a moment?’ and went to the constable.

‘Anybody come in?’ he asked under his breath.

‘No, sir.’

‘Keep the Press out, but admit anyone else and don’t let them go again. Take the names and say there’s been an accident in the vicinity and we’re doing a routine check.’

‘Very good, sir.’

Alleyn returned to Warrender. ‘No one’s come in,’ he said. ‘Where can we talk?’

Warrender glanced at him. ‘Not here,’ he muttered, and led the way into the deserted drawing-room, now restored to order but filled with the flower-shop smell of Bertie Saracen’s decorations and the faint reek of cigarette smoke and alcohol. The connecting doors into the dining-room were open and beyond them, in the conservatory, Dr Harkness could be seen, heavily asleep in a canvas chair and under observation by Inspector Fox. When Fox saw them he came out and shut the glass door. ‘He’s down to it,’ he said, ‘but rouseable. I thought I’d leave him as he is till required.’

Warrender turned on Alleyn. ‘Look here!’ he demanded. ‘What is all this? Are you trying to make out there’s been any – any …’ he boggled, ‘any hanky-panky?’

‘We can’t take accident as a matter of course.’