‘Yes, of course I shall. Now, your husband will be wondering where you are.’

Rose waited anxiously the next day for Harry’s arrival. What should she say to him? If she refused his proposal now that he appeared to have her parents’ permission, he would never ask her again and she would probably never see him again.

The weather had cleared up and pale sunlight streamed in through all the windows.

She paced up and down the gardens, hoping to tire herself out so that she would feel calmer.

‘Look at her!’ said Lady Polly as she and her husband watched from the window as Rose paced up and down. ‘She’s got permission to marry the wretched man and she looks miserable. If we mention India to her again, she’ll accept him just to get out of it.’

‘I’m weary of the whole business,’ said the earl. ‘Rose has been such a disappointment. She’ll have her own money by the time she’s twenty-one. Perhaps we should accept the fact that she’s going to be an old maid.’

‘But what a waste of all that beauty,’ sighed Lady Polly.

‘I hear that motor of his,’ said the earl.

Rose had obviously heard the sound as well because she looked alarmed and then fled into the house.

‘Better go and welcome him,’ said the earl.

Harry took tea with the earl and countess, wondering all the time where Rose had got to. The murders were not referred to. Now that the case was over, the earl and countess considered talk of murder in their drawing room very bad form.

Putting his teacup down in the saucer with an impatient little click and wondering if Lady Polly meant to talk all day about the weather, Harry said, ‘May I see Lady Rose? You know why I have come.’

They both rose to their feet. ‘We’ll send her to you,’ said the earl.

Harry waited, pacing up and down much as Rose had done in the garden.

Rose came quietly into the room. She was wearing a white lace gown with a high, boned lace collar. Her brown hair was piled up on top of her head and her blue eyes looked larger than ever.

This is it, thought Rose. What am I to do? What am I to say?

Harry took one of her hands in his. ‘My darling Rose,’ he said. ‘Would you –’

Brum gave a loud cough. ‘What is it?’ demanded Harry.

‘There is a police inspector has called and insists on seeing you urgently.’

‘Tell him to wait.’

‘I fear he has come to arrest you, sir.’

‘What nonsense. Wait here, Rose. I won’t be long.’

Harry followed the butler down the stairs.

‘I have put the person in the study,’ said Brum in lugubrious tones.

Harry opened the study door and walked in. A police inspector rose to meet him, flanked by two police officers.

‘Captain Cathcart,’ he said, ‘we must ask you to accompany us to the police station for questioning.’