Miss Kettle muttered something that sounded like ‘demimondaine,’ and hurried on. ‘Well, I dare say we’re a bit stodgy in our ways in the Vale,’ she said, ‘and she’s been used to lots of gaiety and there you are.’ She stood up. ‘If there’s nothing more,’ she said, ‘I’ll just have a word with the Doctor and see if there’s anything I can do for Miss Rose or her stepmother before they settle down.’

‘There’s nothing more here. We’ll ask you to sign a statement about finding the body and of course you’ll be called at the inquest.’

‘I suppose so.’ She got up and the two men also rose. Alleyn opened the door. She looked from one to the other.

‘It won’t be a Vale man,’ she said. ‘We’re not a murderous lot in the Vale. You may depend upon it.’

II

Alleyn and Fox contemplated each other with the absentminded habit of long association.

‘Before we see Doctor Lacklander,’ Alleyn said, ‘let’s take stock, Brer Fox. What are you thinking about?’ he added.

‘I was thinking,’ Fox said with his customary simplicity, ‘about Miss Kettle. A very nice woman.’

Alleyn stared at him. ‘You are not by any chance transfixed by Dan Cupid’s dart?’

‘Ah,’ Fox said complacently, ‘that would be the day, wouldn’t it, Mr Alleyn? I like a nice compact woman,’ he added.

‘Drag your fancy away from thoughts of Nurse Kettle’s contours, compact or centrifugal, and consider. Colonel Cartarette left this house about ten past seven to call on Octavius Danberry-Phinn. Presumably there was no one at home because the next we hear of him he’s having a violent row with Phinn down by the Bottom Bridge. That’s at about seven-thirty. At twenty to eight he and Phinn part company. The Colonel crosses the bridge and at twenty minutes to eight is having an interview with Lady Lacklander who is sketching in a hollow on the left bank almost opposite the willow grove on the right bank. Apparently this al fresco meeting was by arrangement. It lasted about ten minutes. At ten to eight Cartarette left Lady Lacklander, recrossed the bridge, turned left and evidently went straight into the willow grove because she saw him there as she herself panted up the hill to Nunspardon. Soon after eight Mrs Cartarette said goodbye to that prize ass George Lacklander and came down the hill. At about a quarter past seven she and he had seen old Phinn poaching and as she tripped down the path she looked along his fishing to see if she could spot him anywhere. She must have just missed Lady Lacklander who, one supposes, had by that time plunged into this Nunspardon Home Spinney they talk so much about. Kitty …’

Fox said: ‘Who?’