But at a telephone-box at Oxford Station, Harry telephoned Matthew and asked which social engagement Rose had for that evening.

‘A fancy-dress party at the Sowerbys,’ said Matthew.

‘Tell Lady Rose I shall be there to escort her.’ Harry rang off. ‘I shall be going to a fancy-dress party tonight, Becket. Do I have fancy dress?’

‘No, but perhaps we could improvise.’

They walked down from the station and climbed into a hansom carriage. ‘Is Phil doing well?’ asked Harry.

‘Yes, he is very diligent. The house has never been so clean.’

‘How does he pass his leisure time?’

‘He reads. He enjoys books.’

‘I am thinking of starting a charity to help the poor of the East End. Perhaps we will get Phil involved. Instead of lords and ladies playing the part of bountiful benefactors, perhaps someone like Phil would be good at finding out the truly deserving. We have more than enough money now. Do I pay you enough, Becket?’

‘At the moment, yes.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Would it be possible to continue to work for you were I married?’

‘You, Becket?’

‘You must have noticed my fondness for Miss Levine.’

‘We will see. Lady Rose without Daisy would be completely unprotected.’

‘Perhaps the ideal solution would be for you to marry Lady Rose and protect her yourself,’ said Becket boldly.

‘That’s enough, Becket. I will consider your problem, but for the moment I wish to hear no more about it.’

St Edwin’s was one of the lesser Oxford colleges, haying been built on Gothic lines in the last century. They asked for Mr Jeremy Tremaine at the porter’s lodge and were escorted across to a stair off the main quadrangle.

‘First-floor landing, sirs,’ said the porter and left them.

They mounted the shallow stone stairs and knocked at the door on the first landing.

Harry had somehow hoped that the Tremaine family, driven by thwarted ambition, had murdered their own daughter. He had decided against the rector and his wife, however, which left the son.

But the man who answered the door to them looked as if he could not hurt a fly. All the looks had gone to Dolly. Despite his youth, Jeremy was tall, thin and slightly stooped. He had a yellowish skin, like tallow, and wore spectacles on the end of his nose. He was dressed in a severe black suit and a white shirt with a high starched collar. His dusty fair hair was already thinning. Over his suit, he was huddled into a dog-hair rug.

Harry introduced himself. ‘Come in,’ said Jeremy. ‘Excuse my dress, but the lazy scout has only just made up the fire. May I offer you something? Sherry?’

They both refused. Becket took a chair by the door and Harry sat down in an armchair facing the one into which Jeremy had just lowered his long thin form.

‘Is it about my sister’s murder?’ asked Jeremy.

‘Yes, we still have no new clues. Have you any idea who could have done this?’