“To Italy. I’m banking on there being plenty of ships that sail out of Genoa and don’t ask too many questions. And I hear there are opportunities to make a fortune in South America. The perfect place for a bright chap like me. Away from the snobbishness of the English class system.” He glanced across at me. The wind was in his hair and his eyes were alight with—what? Danger? Excitement? “You suspected me for some time, didn’t you? I saw it in the questions you asked me. Why didn’t you turn me over to the police?”

I didn’t like to say that I had only just twigged to him. It would be better to let him think that I may have confided in other people. “Those two men you saw at our house this morning,” I said slowly, not sure if this was playing with fire or not. “They were not art experts. One of them was from the Sûreté in Paris and the other from Scotland Yard.”

“The Sûreté and Scotland Yard? Just for me? I didn’t think I was worth that much.” He sounded pleased and then he laughed out loud. “Well, Georgie—that is your name, isn’t it?—we seem to have left the opposition behind.”

“But if you killed Sir Toby, how did you do it? You were in town.”

He was still smiling. “Pure luck. One rare bit of luck in my life. I’d gone into town as he commanded. I’d finished his errands and I was about to do my own when he saw me driving down the street. He flagged me down and got in. He was in an awful mood. Apparently his day had not been going well and he’d changed his mind and didn’t want to stay in Nice, so he told me to drive him home. As we drove, I realized that we’d have the house to ourselves and I wondered if I’d have the nerve to do it. And how I’d do it. I’d gone through the scenario in my mind many times—stabbing him, shooting him—but they all seemed so risky. There was only a point in it if I got away safely, wasn’t there?”

I didn’t answer so he went on. “We got to the house. I didn’t put the car away. He was annoyed about it but I pointed out he’d given me the afternoon off. I still had things I wanted to do in Nice.

“‘You’re not going anywhere. I’m here now, aren’t I?’ he said. ‘I’m not going to cook my own damned supper.’

“Then he said he was going for a swim. He peeled off his clothes and dropped them all over the floor as he put on his bathing suit. He looked disgusting, like a great walrus.

“‘Pick up those things,’ he commanded.