George arrived before Sam and told me about the rapist’s latest exploit. He had telephoned the victim’s husband that morning for they were friends and had confirmed the gossip that all the nasty magical trappings had been in evidence. There was still no description worth the name: the doctor’s wife had tried, sturdy lass, to snatch the man’s mask off while he was most deeply preoccupied with his task but he had immediately stunned her with a blow to the temple with the side of his clenched fist – a surprisingly kind blow and, it seemed to me, rather a knowledgeable one. All she could say with certainty was that he was strong, well-built and perhaps in early middle age.

‘It seems she’s not too shaken up,’ George went on, ‘been a nurse, you see, in the Army. Hard to shock those lassies. She’s more furious than anything else, I gather.’

‘And how’s Sonia?’

‘Oh, well, she still plays up a bit when she remembers to, but on the whole I’d say she was pretty well recovered. Not like poor Vi, she seems to have been knocked for six. By the way, be careful what you say to Sam, he’s taking it very hard. Quite murderous.’

Sam entered as though on cue; paler than usual, less kempt, a humourless look on his face. He swallowed half the drink I gave him before sitting down.

‘Well?’ was what he snapped when he did sit down.

‘No, Sam,’ I said, ‘nothing is well and I should prefer to discuss things after we have all refreshed ourselves a little, don’t you agree?’ He only glared, not agreeing at all, so I went about on the other tack.

‘But first,’ I said, ‘if you feel like talking about it, we are anxious to know how things are with Violet. Where is she, for instance?’

He finished his drink with a second swallow. It had been really quite a stiff drink for lunch-time. I made him another, giving myself a touch more freedom with the soda-water this time.