‘It was harder back then for young women to leave the home?’

‘It was. They usually left home to get married. That was the rule, in our stratum of society anyway. So they were stuck here. In fact …’

‘Yes, what is it?’

‘Rosamund was schooled at home. By Mother and Eileen.’

‘Eileen?’

‘The woman who came in to help. She was a kind of governess, I suppose.’

Nicholas smiled at his own thoughts. It was quite cold to begin with, this smile, and then it softened. He said, ‘I used to love how we played out our little fantasies in secret. The three of us. How strange it was, thinking back.’ His eyes drifted off target and his voice grew wistful. ‘Well, all that is gone now. All gone.’

Hobbes made to ask another question, but just then a great clanging sound came from the cellar door, followed by a cry from one of the workers. Nicholas Graves grimaced, and his cup clattered against the saucer. It sounded like a bone cracking in two.

Hobbes said gently, ‘I know this is difficult for you, Nicholas.’

There was barely a nod in response.

‘Tell me, why did you change your mind?’

Nicholas turned in his seat. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘At first you didn’t want us to dig up the cellar. And then you did.’

‘Because … well, if you must know, I could see the kind of man you are.’

‘Really?’

‘You can mock me all you like, Inspector, but I know you won’t stop hounding me until I prove my innocence.’

‘Now there’s an interesting turn of phrase.’

‘I meant my father’s innocence, of course.’ But he looked flustered as Hobbes stared at him relentlessly. ‘Actually, in all truth, I mean the innocence of the house. Bridlemere counts for everything. I was born and brought up here.’

‘So, you really have a clue about what’s down there?’

‘A burst pipe, I should imagine. One that’s been mended. Dad was always doing work about the house, not that he was any good at it … but rather his botched jobs than have someone come in, a proper worker. He could not abide strangers in the house.’

Hobbes filed this information away. He said, ‘I think you’re as curious as I am, about what’s hidden down there.’

‘I really have no interest in such things. Secrets bore me.’

‘I don’t think that’s true, Mr Graves. Everybody likes to unearth—’

‘No! Not at all.’ Nicholas’s voice rose in volume. ‘I’m only interested in the here and now, in what I can see before me!’

Hobbes waited for a moment. Then he smiled and said, ‘It’s very good of you to help us.’

The other man grimaced. ‘I just – I just want it over with! Once and for all.’ It was said with such vehemence that Hobbes was surprised: sheer hatred had fed the words. But hatred of what? And once again, as the hatred died, he saw that look of fear.

Hobbes decided to hold back, for now. There would be time enough for questions, if needed, once the contents of the cellar floor had been revealed.