Almost of their own volition his hands slid up and around her throat and she sank to her knees choking. Morgan got to his feet, dazed. He staggered forward, grabbed Faulkner by the hair and pulled hard. Faulkner gave a cry of pain, releasing his grip on the woman’s throat. As he turned, Morgan picked up the jug of ice water that stood on the bar top and tossed the contents into his face.

The shock seemed to restore Faulkner to his senses. He stood there swaying, an almost vacant look on his face and Morgan went to Joanna and helped her to her feet.

‘Are you all right?’

She nodded, without speaking. Morgan turned on Faulkner. ‘Was that the way it happened, Bruno? Was that how you killed her?’

Faulkner faced them, dangerously calm. His laughter, when it came, was harsh, completely unexpected.

‘All right – that’s what you’ve been waiting to hear, isn’t it? Well, let’s tell the whole bloody world about it.’

He picked up a chair, lifted it high above his head and hurled it through the studio window.

Miller hammered on the door and it was opened almost immediately by Jack Morgan. Joanna Hartmann was slumped into one of the easy chairs by the fire, sobbing bitterly and Faulkner was standing at the bar pouring himself another drink, his back to the door.

‘What happened?’ Miller demanded.

Morgan moistened dry lips, but seemed to find difficulty in speaking. ‘Why don’t you tell him, Jack?’ Faulkner called.

He emptied his glass and turned, the old sneer lifting the corner of his mouth. ‘Jack and I were at school together, Miller – a very old school. The sort of place that has a code. He’s finding it awkward to turn informer.’

‘For God’s sake, Bruno, let’s get it over with,’ Morgan said savagely.

‘Anything to oblige.’ Faulkner turned to Miller. ‘I killed Grace Packard.’ He held out his wrists. ‘Who knows, Miller you might get promoted over this.’

Miller nodded slowly. ‘You’re aware of the seriousness of what you’re saying?’

‘He admitted it to Miss Hartmann and myself before you arrived,’ Morgan said wearily. He turned to Bruno. ‘Don’t say anything else at this stage, Bruno. You don’t need to.’

‘I’ll have to ask you to accompany me to Central C.I.D. Headquarters,’ Miller said.

He delivered a formal caution, produced his handcuffs and snapped them over Faulkner’s wrists. Faulkner smiled. ‘You enjoyed doing that, didn’t you?’

‘Now and then it doesn’t exactly make me cry myself to sleep,’ Miller took him by the elbow.

‘I’ll come with you if I may,’ Morgan said.

Faulkner smiled briefly, looking just for that single instant like an entirely different person, perhaps that other self he might have been had things been different.

‘It’s nice to know one’s friends. I’d be obliged, Jack.’