‘My darling heart, I’d compare them with the Grand Cham of Tartary’s if it would give you any fun.’

‘But we never got them. Death, as you and Mr Fox would say, intervened. Sir Henry’s death. By the way, the person who painted my banister left finger-prints on the stone wall above it. Perhaps after a decent interval I could hint for an invitation to Ancreton and you could come down with your insufflator and black ink. But honestly, it is a queer story, don’t you think?’

‘Yes,’ he agreed, rubbing his nose. ‘It’s queer enough. We heard about Ancred’s death on the ship’s wireless. Little did I imagine you were in at it.’

‘I liked him,’ said Troy after a pause. ‘He was a terrific old exhibitionist, and he made one feel dreadfully shy at times, but I did like him. And he was grand to paint.’

‘The portrait went well?’

‘I think so.’

‘I’d like to see it.’

‘Well, so you shall one of these days. He said he was leaving it to the Nation. What does the Nation do under those circumstances? Hang it in a dark corner of the Tate, do you imagine? Some paper or another, I suspect Nigel Bathgate’s, is going to photograph it. We might get a print.’

But Alleyn was not to wait long for the photograph. It appeared that evening in Nigel’s paper over a notice of Sir Henry’s funeral. He had been buried in the family vault at Ancreton with as much ceremony as the times allowed.

‘He hoped,’ said Troy, ‘that the Nation would wish otherwise.’

‘The Abbey?’

‘I’m afraid so. Poor Sir Henry, I wish it had. Ah, well,’ said Troy, dropping the newspaper, ‘that’s the end of the Ancreds as far as I’m concerned.’

‘You never know,’ Alleyn said, vaguely. Then, suddenly impatient of the Ancreds and of anything that prolonged beyond this moment the first tentative phase of their reunion, he stretched out his hands towards Troy.

This story is concerned with Alleyn and Troy’s reunion only in so far as it affected his attitude towards her account of the Ancreds. If he had heard it at any other time it is possible that, however unwillingly, he might have dwelt longer on its peculiarities. As it was, he welcomed it as a kind of interlude between their first meeting and its consummation, and then dismissed it from his conscious thoughts.

They had three days together, broken only by a somewhat prolonged interview between Alleyn and his chief at the Special Branch. He was to resume, for the time being at least, his normal job at the Yard. On the Thursday morning when Troy returned to her job, he walked part of the way with her, watched her turn off, and with an odd feeling of anxiety, himself set out for the familiar room and the old associates.