Lady Polly said, ‘Oh, Rose, if only you hadn’t threatened to kill the woman yourself.’

‘What’s this?’ asked Kerridge sharply.

‘You need not answer any more questions,’ said Briggs quickly.

‘I may as well tell him,’ said Rose sadly. ‘There were so many witnesses. My fiancé escorted Miss Duval to the opera. I was incensed. I felt he was tarnishing our relationship by consorting publicly with a doxy. I went up to her in the crush bar at the interval and I said something like, ‘Leave my fiancé alone, you bitch, or I’ll kill you.’

‘Oh, why on earth did you say such a thing?’ mourned Harry.

She looked at him for the first time. ‘I should not have said it. Neither you nor she were worth the effort.’

‘I think we’re finished here,’ said Briggs.

‘Yes, go to your room,’ said Lady Polly.

Harry watched her go. He would never have dreamed that anything he did could rouse Rose to a jealous fury. Perhaps she loved him after all. But she would never forgive him for having taken Dolores to the opera. He should never have let Dolores talk him into it.

* * *

‘Looks right bad for Lady Rose,’ said Kerridge as Becket drove them to Scotland Yard. ‘The earl was a fool to stop us searching her rooms. If she hasn’t got that jewellery, then it’s a good step towards getting her in the clear.’

‘You can get a search warrant.’

‘For an earl’s town house? I’ll be blocked at every turn.’

‘I’ll need to persuade them to send Lady Rose away somewhere. Once the newspapers come out tomorrow, she will be damned as a murderess and there’ll be a mob at her door.’

‘She will certainly be featured largely in the papers but not damned. I don’t think so in this case.’

‘Why?’

‘If Lady Rose had killed a respectable lady, it would be another matter. But her fiancé has been seen squiring around a French tart. It will be regarded as a crime of passion. You may find yourself, and not Lady Rose, the villain on the piece.’

Daisy returned home. She sensed something was up as soon as Brum, the butler, answered the door to her. Daisy had the front door key but was not expected to use it except in an emergency. She had been reprimanded for using the key on one occasion by Lady Polly, who had said, ‘Why open doors when servants are paid to do so?’

‘Hullo, Brum,’ said Daisy. ‘Why the long face?’

He shook his head and said portentously, ‘Bad times.’

Daisy threw him an alarmed look and darted up the stairs to Rose’s private sitting room.

Rose was sitting in an armchair in front of a smouldering fire, a book lying open on her lap. Daisy saw immediately that Rose had been crying. She knelt down beside her. ‘What’s the matter? Tell Daisy.’

In a tired flat voice, Rose told her about the murder and about her involvement in finding the body.