‘The valet,’ cried Mr Satterthwaite. ‘That girl just now–I wasn’t paying any attention at the time.’ He paused, striving for coherence. ‘She was afraid of our suspecting him. There must be some motive that he had and which we don’t know, but she does.’

Colonel Melrose frowned, then he rang the bell. When it was answered, he said, ‘Please ask Lady Dwighton if she will be good enough to come down again.’

They waited in silence until she came. At sight of Delangua she started and stretched out a hand to save herself from falling. Colonel Melrose came quickly to the rescue.

‘It’s quite all right, Lady Dwighton. Please don’t be alarmed.’

‘I don’t understand. What is Mr Delangua doing here?’

Delangua came over to her, ‘Laura–Laura–why did you do it?’

‘Do it?’

‘I know. It was for me–because you thought that–After all, it was natural, I suppose. But, oh! You angel!’

Colonel Melrose cleared his throat. He was a man who disliked emotion and had a horror of anything approaching a ‘scene’.

‘If you’ll allow me to say so, Lady Dwighton, both you and Mr Delangua have had a lucky escape. He had just arrived in his turn to “confess” to the murder–oh, it’s quite all right, he didn’t do it! But what we want to know is the truth. No more shillyshallying. The butler says you went into the library at half past six–is that so?’

Laura looked at Delangua. He nodded.

‘The truth, Laura,’ he said. ‘That is what we want now.’

She breathed a deep sigh. ‘I will tell you.’

She sank down on a chair that Mr Satterthwaite had hurriedly pushed forward.

‘I did come down. I opened the library door and I saw–’

She stopped and swallowed. Mr Satterthwaite leaned forward and patted her hand encouragingly.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes. You saw?’

‘My husband was lying across the writing table. I saw his head–the blood–oh!’

She put her hands to her face. The chief constable leaned forward.

‘Excuse me, Lady Dwighton. You thought Mr Delangua had shot him?’

She nodded. ‘Forgive me, Paul,’ she pleaded. ‘But you said–you said–’

‘That I’d shoot him like a dog,’ said Delangua grimly. ‘I remember. That was the day I discovered he’d been ill-treating you.’

The chief constable kept sternly to the matter in hand.

‘Then I am to understand, Lady Dwighton, that you went upstairs again and–er–said nothing. We needn’t go into your reason. You didn’t touch the body or go near the writing table?’

She shuddered.

‘No, no. I ran straight out of the room.’

‘I see, I see. And what time was this exactly? Do you know?’

‘It was just half past six when I got back to my bedroom.’