‘Did you gather that it was a business call?’

‘Something of the sort. He talked to both of them.’

‘About what, do you know?’

Could Nicola hear, or did she only feel, the thud of her heart?

‘Do you know?’ Alleyn repeated.

‘Only roughly. He’d tell you himself.’

‘You think he would?’

‘Why not?’

‘He told you about it?’

‘A bit. But it was – it was sort of confidential. In a way.’

‘Why are you frightened, Nicola?’ Alleyn asked gently.

‘I’m not. It’s just that: well, the whole thing’s rather a facer. What’s happened. I suppose I’ve got a bit of a delayed shock or something.’

‘Yes,’ Alleyn said. ‘It might, of course, be that.’

He rose and looked down at her from his immoderate height. ‘As my maiden aunt said to her cat: “I can accept the urge and I can deal with the outcome: what I cannot endure are these pointless preliminaries!” She ought to have been in the CID.’

‘What am I supposed to make of that?’

‘Don’t have kittens before they’re hatched. And for pity’s sake don’t hedge or shuffle: that never did anybody any good. Least of all, your young man.’

‘He is not my young man. I only met him yesterday.’

‘Even so quickly may one catch the plague. Did you stay here last night?’

‘No. I was at Baynesholme for a party.’

‘Not Desirée Bantling’s party!’ Alleyn ejaculated.

‘Yes, but it wasn’t the sort you mean. It was a lovely party,’ said Nicola, looking mistily at him. She described it.

‘Any unforeseen incidents?’

‘Only Moppett and Leonard who practically gatecrashed. And Pixie, of course.’

‘What! What about Pixie?’

Nicola told him. ‘Pixie,’ she added, ‘bit Bimbo. He had to go and have his hand bandaged.’

‘You wouldn’t,’ Alleyn asked, ‘know what time it was when Pixie staged this show?’

‘Yes, I would,’ Nicola said promptly and blushed. ‘It was not much after one o’clock.’

‘How do you know?’

‘We got back at half past twelve from the treasure hunt. It was not more than half an hour after that.’

‘We?’

‘Andrew and I. We hunted in pairs.’

‘I thought you said you all had to be in by midnight?’

‘All right. Yes, we were meant to. But Andrew thought the treasure hunt was pretty tiresome so we talked instead. He told me about his painting and somehow we didn’t notice.’

Nicola looked squarely at Alleyn. ‘It couldn’t matter less,’ she said, ‘but I would like to mention that I did not have a casual affair with Andrew. We talked – and talked –’

Her voice faded on an indeterminate note. She was back at the end of Mr Period’s lane, in Andrew’s draughty car, tucked up in Andrew’s old duffel coat that smelt of paint. The tips of their cigarettes glowed and waned. Every now and then a treasure-hunter’s car would go hooting past and they would see the occupants get out and poke about the drain-pipes and heaps of soil, flicking their torches and giggling. And Andrew talked – and didn’t initiate any of the usual driver’s seat techniques but was nevertheless very close to her. And the moon had gone down and the stars were bright and everything in the world seemed brand new and shining. She gave Alleyn the factual details of this experience.