Rose felt she must escape into the fresh air. ‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘I am just going outside, Daisy. There is no need for you to join me.’

Outside, Rose stood and breathed deeply. The day was glorious. Not a cloud in the sky and the trees were still bright spring-green. She heard a step behind her and swung round nervously.

Tristram Baker-Willis came up to her. ‘Jolly day, what. Care for a walk?’

‘Why not?’ said Rose.

They walked round to the back of the house, where formal gardens ran down to an ornamental lake.

‘Oh, look, swans,’ said Tristram.

Two swans were standing on the grass beside the lake. ‘How ugly they look out of the water,’ said Rose.

‘I say, I never noticed that before. You’re a jolly observant girl.’

What is he after? wondered Rose.

‘Sad business about Freddy,’ said Tristram, snapping off the head of a rose. He looked at it in amazement, as if wondering how it had got on his hand, and then shrugged and tossed it to the ground.

‘Yes, very sad,’ agreed Rose.

‘What’s Cathcart doing here? He still poking his nose into business that should be dealt with by Scotland Yard?’

‘I do not know. I think he is simply here as a guest. Lady Glensheil is very fond of him.’

‘Something deuced creepy about a fellow sinking to such a trade. I’m surprised that Lady Glensheil should encourage him. All of society should shun him.’

Where is Harry? fretted Rose.

Then she suddenly stopped short. Today was the day when Kerridge would be at The Feathers. Harry had probably gone to see him alone.

‘Must go,’ said Rose, and picking up her skirts, she ran back towards the house.

Daisy was not in the breakfast room. Rose ran up the stairs and found Daisy in their private sitting-room, looking out of the window.

‘We’d better change and get those bicycles,’ panted Rose. ‘I had forgotten. Kerridge is at that inn called The Feathers today. Ah, Turner, there you are. We are going cycling. We will need our divided skirts, blouses and hats.’

Soon they were speeding down the drive after a wobbly start. ‘Where is The Feathers?’ shouted Daisy.

‘I saw it when we came through that little village. It’s only about a mile from the gates.’

When they reached the inn, the landlord informed them that Mr Kerridge was in the pub garden at the back.

And there they found Kerridge eating a large breakfast, with Harry and Becket beside him.

‘You might have told me you were going to meet Mr Kerridge,’ accused Rose.

‘I thought you were asleep,’ said Harry wearily. He had not been to sleep, having driven all night to get rid of the body and the car and then having come straight to the inn.

‘So is there any news?’ demanded Rose.