“I don’t quite know how to say this, Inspector. But Hazel Dixon mentioned that you were interested in Mrs. Wyatt’s activities. I thought it best to speak to you myself, since I was in a position to tell you some things others might not have thought it necessary to pass on. Mrs. Wyatt is—well, to put it bluntly, she is a woman who attracts the eye of a man, and she knows it. Very French, she is, and that does seem to add to her appeal. That slight accent, and the way she dresses. Well, I can only imagine what her relationship is with her husband, but a woman who is promiscuous often has a very—er—jealous nature. She doesn’t like competition! I’m sure that’s why she persuaded him to give up standing for Parliament and take on this silly museum of his! Such a waste, wouldn’t you say? We’ve had Wyatts representing us for ever so many years, he’s so suitable for the task!”

“Promiscuous?” he asked, moving directly to the key word.

“Oh, yes, I can’t imagine that any decently behaved woman would attract so much attention to herself if she was not—well, of that nature. She can’t be ignorant of the looks cast her way! A married woman neither invites nor encourages such bold notice. It’s neither proper nor genteel. And with Mr. Wyatt so busy with this museum of his, he hasn’t taken steps to put a stop to it!”

Her mouth tightened until the lips were a thin, short line.

The third stone was being cast at Aurore.…

“What has this to do with my investigation, Mrs. Forsby?” He tried to keep the anger out of his voice, picking up his cup and burning himself with the scalding tea. He realized that there was no sugar, no cream in his. Setting it down, he remedied that, courteously waiting for Mrs. Forsby to answer.

“If I were a woman like that,” she said after a moment, “and another very pretty woman came into my household, I shouldn’t like it! I suppose it’s a natural jealousy in someone who prefers to be the center of attention at home as well as in the neighborhood. The talk was, they’d find a male assistant for Mr. Wyatt, someone from one of the colleges. Mrs. Wyatt would have preferred that, I’m quite sure, another besotted male in the house. It might have kept her from straying farther afield, at least for a time. But it didn’t turn out that way, did it?”

“Are you telling me that Aurore Wyatt has taken lovers in Charlbury?”