She was caught unawares by his concern. ‘I’m fine. Thank you. Fine.’

He said nothing for a moment.

Sarah frowned. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘Oh, you know. Just like to make sure that my staff are all right. Don’t like to think that they might be suffering in silence.’

‘Suffering?’ Sarah gave a slight laugh. ‘I suppose that might be pushing it. I have my moments. You know…on those evenings where there’s nothing on the box and I’ve run out of stuff to read. But I’m getting on with my life.’

‘How?’

‘Just by…getting on…blocking it out.’

‘Funny,’ said Gary. ‘I always thought of you as having a mad social life. Out every night.’

Sarah smiled ruefully. ‘Me? No. Home bird really. Not a clubber. Can’t think of anything worse.’ Then she said briskly, ‘Anyway…what about Mr Tan?’

‘I’d rather talk about you, to be honest.’

‘Steady on, Mr Flynn, or I might begin to think you really care.’ She walked across to her desk and dropped down into the chair.

Gary kept staring out of the window. Would that be such a terrible thing? he thought.

The fire was crackling in the grate at the Manor House. Christopher had broken open a new bottle of Laphroaig and had poured a tot for himself while waiting for Reggie Silverwood to arrive.

Half past seven came and went. Eight o’clock. At eight-fifteen Christopher phoned Reggie’s home. Betty answered. ‘No. I thought he was coming for a drink with you.’

At eight-thirty he phoned the hospital, and at eight-thirty-two he learned that Reggie Silverwood had been involved in a motor accident. He was lying unconscious in the Hampshire Royal Infirmary.

Christopher looked at the old doctor lying in the bed. Without his glasses and his usual look of thoughtful preoccupation his features seemed more relaxed. But his skin was pale, almost translucent. It was a look Christopher had seen before. He feared the worst.

There were no other cars involved, confirmed the houseman. From the condition of the driver when they had found him it looked as though Dr Silverwood had had a heart attack at the wheel, then plunged down a ditch off the main road just before the turning to Christopher’s house. His condition was stable, but the next twenty-four hours would be critical.

Christopher nodded. He had said the same words himself enough times to know their underlying truth.

Reggie’s accident was a blow. He had been a kind and generous colleague and a good if reserved friend. But gnawing away inside was the regret that they had not had a chance to talk, for Reggie to share whatever it was that was troubling him. Christopher suspected that he knew the likely cause. But for the moment all he could do was wait.

Chapter 11