Paul began rather stiffly and with a deprecatory air: ‘I’m afraid, sir, that all this is going to sound extremely obvious and perhaps a bit high-falutin, but Fen and I have talked it over pretty thoroughly and we’ve come to a definite conclusion. Of course it was obvious from the beginning that the letters meant Sonia Orrincourt. She was the only person who didn’t get one, and she’s the one who benefited most by Grandfather’s death. But those letters were written before they found the rat-bane in her suitcase, and, in fact, before there was a shred of evidence against her. So that if she’s innocent, and I agree with Fenella that she is, it means one of two things. Either the letter-writer knew something that he or she genuinely thought suspicious, and none of us did know anything of the sort; or, the letter was written out of pure spite, and not to mince matters, with the intention of getting her hanged. If that’s so, it seems to me that the tin of rat-bane was deliberately planted. And it seems to me—to Fen and me—that the same person put that book on embalming in the cheese-dish because he was afraid nobody would ever remember it, and was shoving it under our noses in the most startling form he could think of.’

He paused and glanced nervously at Alleyn, who said: ‘That sounds like perfectly sound reasoning to me.’

‘Well, then, sir,’ said Paul quickly, ‘I think you’ll agree that the next point is important. It’s about this same damn’ silly business with the book in the cheese-dish, and I may as well say at the outset it casts a pretty murky light on my cousin Cedric. In fact, if we’re right, we’ve got to face the responsibility of practically accusing Cedric of attempted murder.’

‘Paul!’

‘I’m sorry, Aunt Jen, but we’ve decided.’

‘If you’re right, and I’m sure you’re wrong, have you thought of the sequel? The newspapers. The beastliness. Have you thought of poor Milly, who dotes on the little wretch?’

‘We’re sorry,’ Paul repeated stubbornly.

‘You’re inhuman,’ cried his aunt and threw up her hands.

‘Well,’ said Alleyn peaceably, ‘let’s tackle this luncheon-party while we’re at it. What was everybody doing before the book on embalming made its appearance?’

This seemed to nonplus them. Fenella said impatiently: ‘Just sitting. Waiting for someone to break it up. Aunt Milly does hostess at Ancreton, but Aunt Pauline (Paul’s mother) rather feels she ought to when in residence. She—you don’t mind my mentioning it Paul, darling?—she huffs and puffs about it a bit, and makes a point of waiting for Aunt Milly to give the imperceptible signal to rise. I rather fancied Aunt Milly kept us sitting for pure devilment. Anyway, there we stuck.’

‘Sonia fidgeted,’ said Paul, ‘and sort of groaned.’