Alfred said: ‘The window was on the latch as it is now, when I cleared, miss. I’d left it shut, as usual.’

Nicola looked at it. It was a casement window and was hooked open to the extent of some eight inches. Beyond it were the rose garden, the side gate and the excavations in the lane. As she stared out of it, a shovelful of earth was thrown up; derisively, she might almost have thought, by one of the workmen, invisible in the trench.

‘Never mind,’ she said. ‘We’ll find it. Don’t worry.’

‘I hope so, I’m sure, miss. It’s a valuable object.’

‘I know.’

They were staring doubtfully at each other when Mr Period came in looking exceedingly rattled.

‘Nicola, my dear: Andrew Bantling on the telephone, for you. Would you mind taking it in the hall? We are un peu occupé, in the study. I’m so sorry.’

‘Oh, dear!’ Nicola said, ‘so am I, that you’ve been bothered. Mr Period – your cigarette-case isn’t in here, I’m afraid.’

‘But I distinctly remember –’ Mr Period began. ‘Well,’ never mind. Your telephone call, child.’

Nicola went into the hall.

Andrew Bantling said: ‘Oh, there you are at last! What goes on in the lay-by? P.P. sounded most peculiar.’

‘He’s awfully busy.’

‘You’re being discreet and trustworthy. Never mind, I shall gimlet it out of you on the train. You couldn’t make the three thirty, I suppose?’

‘Not possibly.’

‘Then I shall simply have to lurk in the lane like a follower. There’s nowhere for me to be in this district. Baynesholme has become uninhabitable on account –’ he lowered his voice and evidently put his mouth very close to the receiver, so that consonants popped and sibilants hissed in Nicola’s eardrum.

‘What did you say?’

‘I said the Moppett and her Leonard have arrived in a smashing Scorpion under the pretence of wanting to see the family portraits. What’s the matter?’

‘I’ve got to go. Sorry. Goodbye,’ Nicola said, and rushed to the library.

Mr Cartell and Mr Period broke off their conversation as she entered. Sergeant Raikes was dialling a number.

She said, ‘I thought I should tell you at once. They’re at Baynesholme. They’ve driven there in the Scorpion.’

Mr Cartell went into action.

‘Raikes,’ he said, ‘tell Copper I want him here immediately in the car.’

‘Which car, sir?’ Raikes asked, startled, the receiver at his ear.

‘The Bloodbath,’ Mr Period said impatiently. ‘What else? Really, Raikes!’

‘He’s to drive me to Baynesholme as fast as the thing will go. At once, Raikes.’

Sergeant Raikes began talking into the telephone.

‘Be quick,’ Mr Cartell said, ‘and you’d better come too.’

‘– yes, George,’ said Sergeant Raikes into the telephone. ‘That’s correct. Now.’

‘Come along, Raikes. My hat and coat!’ Mr Cartell went out. ‘Alfred! My top-coat.’