‘She had left the company, sir. They had all moved into the drawing-room.’

‘All of them?’

‘Yes, sir. Except her and Mr Rattisbon. And Mrs Alleyn, who was a guest. They were all there. Mrs Kentish said the young lady had gone to her room and that’s where I found her. Mr Rattisbon was in the hall.’

‘What was the business with the hot drink?’

The old man described it carefully. Until the rise of Sonia Orrincourt, Millamant had always prepared the drink. Miss Orrincourt had taken over this routine. The milk and ingredients were left in her room by the housemaid, who turned down her bed. She brewed the drink over a heater, put it in a Thermos flask, and, half an hour after he had retired, took it to his room. He slept badly and sometimes would not drink it until much later in the night.

‘What happened to the Thermos flask and the cup and saucer?’

‘They were taken away and washed up, sir. They’ve been in use since.’

‘Had he drunk any of it?’

‘It had been poured into the cup, sir, at all events, and into the saucer for that cat, as was always done, and the saucer set on the floor. But the cup and the flask and the medicine bottle had been overturned and there was milk and medicine soaked into the carpet.’

‘Had he taken his medicine?’

‘The glass was dirty. It had fallen into the saucer.’

‘And has, of course, been washed,’ said Alleyn. ‘What about the bottle?’

‘It had been knocked over, sir, as I mentioned. It was a new bottle. I was very much put out, sir, but I tried to tidy the room a bit, not knowing exactly what I was doing. I remember I took the dirty china and the bottle and Thermos downstairs with me. The bottle was thrown out, and the other things cleared up. The medicine cupboard has been cleaned out thoroughly. It’s in the bathroom, sir, through that door. The whole suite,’ said Barker conscientiously, ‘has been turned out and cleaned.’

Fox mumbled inarticulately.

‘Well,’ said Alleyn. ‘To go back to the message you took to Miss Orrincourt that night. Did you actually see her?’

‘No, sir. I tapped on the door and she answered.’ He moved uneasily.

‘Was there anything else?’

‘It was a queer thing—’ His voice faded.

‘What was a queer thing?’

‘She must have been alone,’ Barker mused, ‘because, as I’ve said, sir, the others were downstairs, and afterwards, just afterwards, when I took in the grog-tray, there they all were. But before I knocked on her door, sir, I could have sworn that she was laughing.’

When Barker had gone, Fox sighed gustily, put on his spectacles and looked quizzically through them at the naked end of the bell-cord.

‘Yes, Br’er Fox, exactly,’ said Alleyn, and went to the dressing-table. ‘That’ll be the lady,’ he said.