‘No need,’ Desirée said, ‘my car’s outside. I’d love to take you. Don’t fuss, P.P., I’d really like to. I can have a cast around the village and see how the hunt’s going. By the way, one of Bimbo’s clues leads to your sewage excavation. It says: “All your trouble and all your pain will only land you down the drain.” He’s not very good at poetry, poor sweet, but I thought that one of his neater efforts. Come on, darling. I can see you’re in a fever lest slick Len and his moll should get back with the first prize before you make your getaway.’

They went out to her car. Mr Period was a little apprehensive because of the amount of liqueur brandy Desirée had consumed but she drove with perfect expertise and all the way to Little Codling they talked about Mr Cartell. Presently they turned into Green Lane. A red lantern marked the end of the open ditch. They passed an elderly sports car parked in the rough grass on the opposite side.

‘Andy,’ said his mother, giving a long hoot on her horn. ‘He’s going to fall in love with your secretary, I can see.’

‘Already!’ ejaculated Mr Period.

‘Going to. Heavily, I fancy. I took to the girl, rather.’

‘Charming! A really nice gel. I’m delighted with her.’

‘P.P.,’ Desirée said, as they drew near the house, ‘there’s something extra Harold’s done to inflame you, isn’t there?’

There was a silence.

‘Don’t tell me if you’d rather not, of course.’

‘It’s very painful to me. Something he said. One shouldn’t,’ Mr Period added in a constrained and unnatural voice, ‘let such things upset one but – No, dearest Desirée, I shan’t bore you with it. It was nothing. I prefer to forget it.’

‘Fair enough,’ she said and pulled up.

Mr Period did not immediately get out of the car. He made another little speech of thanks for his entertainment and then with many hesitations and apologetic noises hinted obscurely at bereavement.

‘I haven’t said anything, my dear,’ he murmured, ‘because I felt you preferred not. But I wouldn’t like you to think – but never mind, I only wanted you to know –’ He waved his hands and was silent.

‘Do you mean about Ormsbury?’ she said in her direct way. Mr Period made a small confirmatory sound. ‘You didn’t say anything,’ he added. ‘So, of course –’

‘There are some sorrows,’ Desirée said and it was impossible to catch any overtones in her voice, ‘that go too deep for words.’

Mr Period gave a little groan of sympathy, kissed her hand, and left her.

He went in by the side gate. She watched him, by the light of her headlamps, pick his way in a gingerly fashion over the planks that had been laid across the ditch. He was safely inside his house and Desirée was about to drive away when she caught sight of a figure in an upper window. She stopped her engine and got out of the car.