‘Sir Andrew Fairchild, the king’s equerry, volunteered the information that Mr Pomfret had approached him with a view to buying a title.’

‘And what did Sir Andrew say to that?’ asked Rose.

‘Of course he pretended to be shocked and said titles were never bought, which was silly of him, as everyone knows they are these days. So that confirms Mr Pomfret’s father’s story that Pomfret was desperate for a title. We studied the bank accounts further. He did not have much money, or rather, he did not keep much money. Very extravagant spender.’

Harry put his hand over his mouth to hide a cavernous yawn.

‘Didn’t you get any sleep?’ asked Kerridge.

‘Not much. Went for a drive.’

‘Near a river?’

‘I beg your pardon.’

‘Your car has mud on the sides and yet the weather is still fine and dry.’

‘Oh, we came through a water splash. Where was it, Becket?’

‘I cannot recall, sir. One village at night is very like another village. Have you learned anything, Lady Rose?’

‘Not really. On the face of it, it is an exceptionally boring house party. Everyone just glooms around. Lady Glensheil has obviously considered that having supplied a theatre for your suspects, she does not need to do anything more about it. Oh, Mr Baker-Willis invited me for a walk this morning. He was anxious to find out why Captain Cathcart was included in the guest list. I said it was because you were a friend of Lady Glensheil. He seemed highly nervous and ill at ease.’

Kerridge looked disappointed. ‘I was hoping something more dramatic would have happened by now.’ Rose and Harry exchanged glances.

‘What’s that?’ demanded Kerridge. ‘Has something happened?’

‘Nothing at all,’ said Harry quickly.

‘There’s no sign of McWhirter,’ said Kerridge, fixing Rose with a hard stare.

Rose felt herself beginning to blush.

‘You haven’t seen him?’

‘If we had seen him, we would of course have contacted the nearest police station,’ said Harry smoothly.

Kerridge leaned back in his chair. He wagged a finger at Harry. ‘You’ve been up to something. You haven’t shaved. You’ve got bags under your eyes. And you’ve got mud on your car.’

Harry thought quickly. ‘I went for a drive all night because I could not sleep. I was in the Boer War, you know. It’s the reports in the papers of Kitchener’s concentration camps in South Africa packed with starving women and children. For us British to behave like that is sickening. It is tantamount to treason to criticize our glorious victory, but I would see those donkeys of leaders, Buller, Kitchener and Lord Roberts, in the dock for having caused so much death and misery. Thanks to the new photograph reporting showing pictures of the misery of the Boer women and children, we are the shame of the world.’