‘If you will forgive me for saying so, sir,’ ventured Judd, ‘it surprises me that you should share the investigation with amateurs.’

‘I’ll tell you why. It’s because amateurs are lucky. I sometimes think they could get away with murder.’

With Becket driving, Harry guided him to the place where they had shoved the car with the body of Mr McWhirter into the river. The grey light of dawn was spreading across the country-side despite the banks of clouds building up over their heads and the dawn chorus was starting up.

Philip had left no tell-tale tracks. Rather, he had returned and driven the tractor up and down the river bank to obscure any motor-car tracks. A stiff wind was blowing, whipping up waves across the river.

They stood on the edge of the bank and looked down. But the water was so turbulent now that they could not see a thing.

‘There you are,’ said Harry with relief. ‘See how black the water is?’

‘It’s going to rain,’ said Becket, looking up at the black clouds. ‘I wonder what it’s like here on a calm, sunny day.’

‘Never mind. I assure you there’s nothing to see. We’ve gotten away with it.’

CHAPTER TEN

It is a mistake to suppose that eating and drinking stimulate conversation at the moment. We know that not until the champagne has gone at least twice round the tables are our tongues loosened; and this unlocking process is not a pretty one.

Macmillan’s Magazine, 1906

Dinner that evening started off silently. Even Lady’s Glensheil’s tongue was silent. Her black gown was decorated with so much jet that it glittered like the skin of some primeval reptile.

The men were wearing black armbands and the ladies had looked out their darkest clothes. For the young women of the party, Rose, Daisy, Maisie and Frederica, it had been hard to find anything suitable to wear, débutantes usually being attired for evening in white or pastels.

Daisy was the most decorous in her grey silk. Rose was wearing lilac silk, but with a dark purple shawl about her shoulders. Maisie’s maid had stitched black edging on a lime-green gown and Frederica had embellished her white gown with a tartan sash as if for a highland ball, thinking that a show of native Scottishness showed enough respect for the dead.

Everyone began to drink more than usual. The acidulous Sir Gerald Burke was the first to give tongue. People said he had become nastier after that business of extricating himself from the clutches of a middle-aged American lady. Gerald had wrongly assumed the lady to be an heiress and, on finding she was not, had proceeded to retreat, followed by her loud and public recriminations.

‘I don’t know why we are all being kept here,’ he complained. ‘It’s all your fault, Jerry.’

‘What, me? I didn’t murder her, old chap.’