Letitia Blacklock shivered. “I don’t know, Inspector—I don’t know at all!”

“I’ve checked up with Mrs. Goedler. She’s given me all the help she can. It wasn’t very much. There are just a few people who would definitely profit by your death. First Pip and Emma. Patrick and Julia Simmons are the right age, but their background seems clear enough. Anyway, we can’t concentrate on these two alone. Tell me, Miss Blacklock, would you recognize Sonia Goedler if you saw her?”

“Recognize Sonia? Why, of course—” She stopped suddenly. “No,” she said slowly, “I don’t know that I would. It’s a long time. Thirty years … She’d be an elderly woman now.”

“What was she like when you remember her?”

“Sonia?” Miss Blacklock considered for some moments. “She was rather small, dark….”

“Any special peculiarities? Mannerisms?”

“No—no, I don’t think so. She was gay—very gay.”

“She mayn’t be so gay now,” said the Inspector. “Have you got a photograph of her?”

“Of Sonia? Let me see—not a proper photograph. I’ve got some old snapshots—in an album somewhere—at least I think there’s one of her.”

“Ah. Can I have a look at it?”

“Yes, of course. Now where did I put that album?”

“Tell me, Miss Blacklock, do you consider it remotely possible that Mrs. Swettenham might be Sonia Goedler?”

“Mrs. Swettenham?” Miss Blacklock looked at him in lively atonishment. “But her husband was in the Government Service—in India first, I think, and then in Hong Kong.”

“What you mean is, that that’s the story she’s told you. You don’t, as we say in the Courts, know it of your own knowledge, do you?”

“No,” said Miss Blacklock slowly. “When you put it like that, I don’t … But Mrs. Swettenham? Oh, it’s absurd!”

“Did Sonia Goedler ever do any acting? Amateur theatricals?”

“Oh, yes. She was good.”

“There you are! Another thing, Mrs. Swettenham wears a wig. At least,” the Inspector corrected himself, “Mrs. Harmon says she does.”

“Yes—yes, I suppose it might be a wig. All those little grey curls. But I still think it’s absurd. She’s really very nice and exceedingly funny sometimes.”

“Then there’s Miss Hinchcliffe and Miss Murgatroyd. Could either of them be Sonia Goedler?”

“Miss Hinchcliffe is too tall. She’s as tall as a man.”

“Miss Murgatroyd then?”

“Oh, but—oh no, I’m sure Miss Murgatroyd couldn’t be Sonia.”

“You don’t see very well, do you, Miss Blacklock?”

“I’m shortsighted; is that what you mean?”

“Yes. What I’d like to see is a snapshot of this Sonia Goedler, even if it’s a long time ago and not a good likeness. We’re trained, you know, to pick out resemblances, in a way no amateur can ever do.”

“I’ll try and find it for you.”

“Now?”

“What, at once?”