‘Here we are, acting as pleasant as you please,’ Mrs Mitchell observed, ‘and all the while there’s this wicked business hanging over our heads. You know? In a way I can’t credit it.’

‘Naturally enough, Mrs M.,’ Alfred pointed out. ‘Following as we do, the even tenor of our ways, the concept of violence is not easily assimilated. Mr Fox appreciates the point of view I feel sure.’

‘Very understandable. I suppose,’ Fox suggested, ‘you might say the household has ticked over as comfortably as possible ever since the two gentlemen decided to join forces.’

There was a brief silence broken by Mrs Mitchell. ‘In a manner of speaking, you might,’ she concluded, ‘although there have been – well –’

‘Exterior influences,’ Alfred said remotely.

‘Well, exactly, Mr Belt.’

‘Such as?’ Fox suggested.

‘Since you ask me, Mr Fox, such as the dog and the arrangement. And the connections,’ Mrs Mitchell added.

‘Miss Mary Ralston, for instance?’

‘You took the words out of my mouth.’

‘We mustn’t,’ Alfred intervened, ‘give too strong an impression, Mrs M.’

‘Well, I dare say we mustn’t, but you have to face up to it. The dog is an animal of disgusting habits and that young lady’s been nothing but a menace ever since the arrangement was agreed upon. You’ve said it yourself, Mr Belt, over and over again.’

‘A bit wild, I take it,’ Fox ventured.

‘Blood,’ Mrs Mitchell said sombrely, ‘will tell. Out of an orphanage and why there, who knows?’

‘As Mr Cartell himself realized,’ Alfred said. ‘I heard him make the observation last evening though he didn’t frame it in those particular terms.’

‘Last evening? Really? Cigarette, Mrs Mitchell?’

‘Thank you, Mr Fox.’ Alfred and Mrs Mitchell exchanged a glance. A bell rang.

‘Excuse me,’ Alfred said. ‘The study.’ He went out. Fox, gazing benignly upon Mrs Mitchell, wondered if he detected a certain easing-up in her manner.

‘Mr Belt,’ she said, ‘is very much put about by all this. He don’t show his feelings, but you can tell.’

‘Very natural,’ Fox said. ‘So Mr Cartell didn’t find himself altogether comfortable about Miss Ralston?’ he hinted.

‘It couldn’t be expected he should take to her. A girl of that type calling him uncle, and all. As for our gentleman – well!’

‘I can imagine,’ Fox said cosily. ‘Asking for trouble.’ He beamed at her. ‘So there were words?’ he said. ‘Well, bound to be, when you look at the situation but, I dare say, they didn’t amount to much, the deceased gentleman being of such an easy-going nature, from all accounts.’

‘I’m sure I don’t know who gave you that idea, Inspector,’ Mrs Mitchell said. ‘I’d never have called him that, never. Real old bachelor and a lawyer into the bargain. Speak no ill, of course, but speak as you find, all the same. Take last evening. There was all this trouble over our gentleman’s cigarette-case.’