It was a politely couched request for him to telephone Lady Maude.

She wanted a report of his progress.

And so far he had nothing to tell her.

HER VOICE CAME clearly down the line—imperious and cold. “I expected you to keep me apprised of your investigation,” Lady Maude said accusingly. “You have disappointed me.”

“I had only mundane details to report until today. Tell me, do you know a Mrs. Cook, Maude Cook?”

“And who is she?” Lady Maude parried.

“I can’t be sure,” he admitted. “I’m exploring every possibility, and her name has come up in the course of inquiries.”

“I have no interest in a Maude Cook!”

“Did your daughter have friends in Glasgow whom she might have visited for a period of time? People who would let her stay for several months?”

“Certainly not. I can’t think of any reason why my daughter might wish to go to Scotland at all. It’s very unlike her. But I’ve told you that before.”

He said, “Did your daughter know a Fiona MacDonald?”

“I think not. It isn’t a name I’m familiar with.” She paused, then made—for her—a difficult concession. “The war unsettled accepted social behavior. In London Eleanor must have met any number of people outside our own circle of friends. I can’t be expected to know all of them.” It was the closest she had come to admitting that for three years she had no knowledge at all of the people who might have been important in her daughter’s life. And then, behind the coldness, there appeared a brief glimmer of warmth. “Inspector. I am waiting for news of my daughter. Something that will prove that it’s impossible for her to be connected in any way with this sordid business of murder!”

“The police here are still convinced that the—er—remains that have been found must be your daughter’s. I’m not as sure, for a number of reasons. But it isn’t something I can prove in a matter of days. The woman accused of the murder has been less than helpful. We are having to trace her movements over a period of three years. Until that’s completed, I can’t promise you any news.”

She considered that in silence.

Then she said, “I shall expect regular reports.” It was as far as she could go, admitting that she was worried.

“I understand.”

He put down the phone and considered going into the saloon bar for a drink. But he thought better of it and climbed the stairs wearily to his room.

Hamish was a dull murmur in his ear as he fell deeply and dreamlessly asleep.

OLIVER’S FIRST QUESTION was “Did you learn anything?”