‘P’raps he’s a gangster and Moppett’s his moll.’

‘Highly probable,’ he said angrily.

‘I can’t wait to hear Leonard being the life and soul of my party.’

‘I promise you, if you do ask them, you’ll regret it.’

‘Should we hire a detective to keep an eye on the spoons?’

‘At least you can come in and help me with the bloody poetry.’

‘I think I shall ask them,’ she said, in her rather hoarse voice. ‘Don’t you think it could be fun? Would you really not want it?’

‘You know damn’ well what I want,’ he muttered, staring at her.

She raised her eyebrows. ‘I forgot to tell you,’ she said. ‘Ormsbury’s dead.’

‘Your brother?’

‘That’s right. In Australia.’

‘Ought you to –’

‘I haven’t seen him for thirty years and I never liked him. A horrid, dreary fellow.’

Bimbo said: ‘Good God, who’s this!’

‘The Bloodbath,’ Desirée said calmly. ‘So it isn’t out of commission. Bad luck for Leonard.’

It came slowly roaring and boiling up the long drive with George Copper at the wheel and Raikes beside him.

‘Do you see who’s in the back seat?’ Desirée asked her husband. ‘It’s Harold.’

‘It can’t be.’

‘But it is. His first visit since we had our final row and he shook my dust from his boots for ever. Perhaps he’s going to claim me back from you after all these years.’

‘What the hell can he want?’

‘Actually I’m livid with him. He’s being beastly to Andrew about that money. I shall pitch into him.’

‘Why’s he got Raikes? I’ll never get my clues done,’ Bimbo complained.

‘You bolt indoors. I’ll cope.’

Bimbo said: ‘Fair enough,’ and did so.

The car drew up with a jerk. Sergeant Raikes got out and opened the rear door for Mr Cartell, who was clearly flustered.

‘Harold,’ Desirée said, with amusement. ‘How are you? I recognized your hat. Good afternoon, Mr Copper. Good afternoon, Mr Raikes.’

‘I wonder,’ Mr Cartell began as he removed his hat, ‘if you could spare me a moment.’

‘Why not? Come in.’

Bare-headed, baldish and perturbed, he followed her distrustfully into the house.

‘What do we do?’ Mr Copper asked Raikes.

‘Wait. What else? The Scorpion’s not here, George.’

‘You don’t say,’ Mr Copper bitterly rejoined, looking round the open expanse of drive.

Raikes walked to the front of the Bloodbath and looked at the surface of the drive. He laid his hand pontifically on the bonnet and snatched it away with an oath.

‘She’s boiling,’ Mr Copper observed.

‘Ta for the information.’

‘You would insist on the hurry. She can’t take it.’

‘All right. All right. I said I ought to come on the bike. Stay where you are, George.’

Mr Copper watched him with resentment. Doubled forward he cast about the drive.