‘Childish, not low,’ Nicola insisted, but Andrew was looking at her with such a degree of affectionate attention that she was extremely flustered.

‘Well,’ Andrew said. ‘Never mind, anyway, about P.P.’

‘I can’t help it. He was so miserable all the afternoon. You know: trying to forge ahead with his tips on U-necessities, as he inevitably calls them, and then falling into wretched little trances. He really was in a bad state. Everything seemed to upset him.’

‘What sorts of things?’ Troy asked. ‘Have some more lager?’

‘No, thank you. Well, he kept singing in an extremely dismal manner. And then he would stop and turn sheet white. He muttered something about: “No, no, I mustn’t. Better forget it,” and looked absolutely terrified.’

‘How very odd,’ Andrew said. ‘What was his song?’

‘I don’t remember – yes, I do!’ Nicola ejaculated. ‘Of course, I do! Because he’d done the same sort of thing yesterday, after lunch: hummed it and then been cross with himself. But it was different today. He seemed quite shattered.’

‘And the song?’

‘It was the pop-song that ghastly Leonard kept whistling through his teeth at luncheon. He even sang a bit of it when they were looking at the cigarette-case: ‘If you mean what I think you mean: it’s okay by me. Things aren’t always what they seem. It’s okay by me.’’

‘Not exactly a “Period Piece”.’

‘It was all very rum.’

‘Did you happen to mention it to Rory?’ Troy asked.

‘No. I haven’t seen him since it happened. And anyway, why should I?’

‘No reason at all, I dare say.’

‘Look,’ Nicola said quickly, ‘however foolish he may be, Mr Period is quite incapable of the smallest degree of hanky-panky –’ She stopped short and the now familiar jolt of indefinable panic revisited her. ‘Serious hanky-panky, I mean,’ she amended.

‘Good lord, no!’ Andrew said. ‘Of course he is. Incapable, I mean.’

Nicola stood up. ‘It’s a quarter to twelve,’ she said. ‘We must go, Andrew. Poor Troy!’

The telephone rang and Troy answered it. The voice at the other end said quite distinctly: ‘Darling?’

‘Hallo,’ Troy said. ‘Still at it?’

‘Very much so. Is Nicola with you?’

‘Yes,’ Troy said. ‘She and Andrew Bantling.’

‘Could I have a word with her?’

‘Here you are.’

Troy held out the receiver and Nicola took it feeling her heart thud stupidly against her ribs.

‘Hallo, Cid,’ she said.

‘Hallo, Nicola. There’s something that’s cropped up here that you might just possibly be able to give me a line about. After I left you today, did you discuss our conversation with anybody?’

‘Well, yes,’ she said. ‘With Andrew.’

‘Anyone else? Now don’t go jumping to conclusions, there’s a good child, but did Mr Period want to know if you told me anything about his luncheon party?’

Nicola swallowed. ‘Yes, he did. But it was only, poor lamb, because he hates the idea of your hearing about the digs Mr Cartell made at his snob-values. He was terribly keen to know if I’d told you anything about the baptismal register story.’