‘And then,’ Nicola told Alleyn, ‘another light popped up and another window opened and Mr Period looked out. It was like a Punch and Judy show. He said something rather plaintive that sounded like: “Is anything the matter?” and Lady Bantling shouted: “Not a thing, go to bed, darling,” and he said: “Well, really! How odd!” and pulled down his blind. And then Mr Cartell said something inaudible and Lady Bantling quite yelled: “Ha! Ha! You jolly well watch your step,” and then he pulled his blind down and we saw her come out, cross the ditch, and get into the car. She drove past us and leant out of the driving window and said: “That was a tuppenny one. Don’t be too late, darlings” and went on. And Andrew said he wished he knew what the hell she was up to and soon after that we went back to the party. Leonard and Moppett had already arrived.’

‘Was Desirée Bantling, in fact, tight?’

‘It’s hard to say. She was perfectly in order afterwards and acted with the greatest expediency, I must say, in the Pixie affair. She’s obviously,’ Nicola said, ‘a law unto herself.’

‘I believe you. You’ve drifted into rather exotic and dubious waters, haven’t you?’

‘It was all right,’ Nicola said quickly. ‘And Andrew’s not a bit exotic or dubious. He’s a quiet character. Honestly. You’ll see.’

‘Yes,’ Alleyn said. ‘I’ll see. Thank you, Nicola.’ Upon which the door of Mr Period’s drawing-room burst open and Andrew, scarlet in the face, stormed in.

‘Look here!’ he shouted, ‘what the hell goes on? Are you grilling my girl?’

IV

Alleyn, with one eyebrow cocked at Nicola, was crisp with Andrew. Nicola herself, struggling between exasperation and a maddening tendency to giggle invited Andrew not to be an ass and he calmed down and presently apologized.

‘I’m inclined to be quick-tempered,’ he said with an air of self-discovery and an anxious glance at Nicola.

She cast her eyes up and, on Alleyn’s suggestion, left Andrew with him and went to the study. There she found Mr Period in a dreadful state of perturbation, writing a letter.

‘About poor old Hal,’ he explained distractedly. ‘To his partner. One scarcely knows what to say.’

He implored Nicola to stay and as she still had a mass of unassembled notes to attend to, she set to work on them in a strange condition of emotional uncertainty.

Alleyn had little difficulty with Andrew Bantling. He readily outlined his own problems, telling Alleyn about the Grantham Gallery and how Mr Cartell had refused to let him anticipate his inheritance. He also confirmed Nicola’s account of their vigil in the car. ‘You don’t,’ he said, ‘want to take any notice of my mamma. She was probably a thought high. It would amuse her to bait Harold. She always does that sort of thing.’