Lord Alfred looked at the letters lying on the table. He picked them up and took them to the fireplace. He took out a silver box of vestas and struck one and held it to the edge of the packet until a flame took hold and then he threw the burning packet into the fireplace.

He sat down again and covered his face with his hands and wept.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Really, if the lower orders don’t set us a good example, what on earth is the use of them?

Oscar Wilde

Rose felt sick. Angela’s eyes were glittering with a mad light, but the hand holding the gun never wavered. Rose tried to think coolly and calmly but jumbled thoughts raced through her brain. That famous line from adventure stories she had read – ‘With one bound he was free’ – tumbled into her brain. Would Daisy bring the photograph or would she find Captain Cathcart and get help? Her mother had insisted she go back to wearing ‘proper stays’ and a steel had edged itself loose and was cutting into her. The whalebone stiffening in the high collar of her gown was digging into her neck. If she had accepted Tristram’s proposal and settled for an uneventful married life, she would never have landed in this mess. ‘If you shoot me,’ said Rose, finding her voice, ‘how do you expect to get away with it?’

‘I will leave the country and hide abroad. They will never find me.’

‘If you have to leave the country, Mrs Stockton, what is the point of wanting the photograph? Your reputation will be ruined by this mad action of yours.’

‘I am not mad!’

Rose was aware of the bell-rope next to her chair. If only she could tug it, a servant would appear, and surely this whole household of servants wasn’t party to the murders.

‘What happened to Murphy? What happened to Mr Pomfret’s manservant? Did you kill him, too?’

‘I paid him to leave for Ireland. He was glad to accept. He didn’t know I’d killed Pomfret but I didn’t want him in that flat in case he found that photograph. I said I was looking after him out of kindness and to honour Pomfret’s memory.’

Rose put her hand to her forehead and swayed in her chair. ‘I feel faint,’ she said.

‘Then faint,’ snapped Angela.

Rose swayed in her chair nearer the bell-rope. Then, as if about to lose her balance, she seized the bell-rope.

The double doors of the drawing-room opened and a footman stared at the tableau and then retreated. Rose could hear him running down the stairs.

To her amazement, Angela, in her fixed concentration, had not even noticed.

But suddenly a voice shouted from downstairs, ‘We’ve got to get the police!’

Angela’s eyes widened and her finger tightened on the trigger.