Mitra nodded thanks and bowed out. Kim took a chair. There was only one, so Will leaned against the wall. “Thank you, Knowle. Can you tell me about yesterday?”

Knowle picked up a pen and twiddled it. “As you know, Lord Chingford had a very public row with, or at, Mr. Fairfax yesterday. Foul language, high volume, and in the dining room. Several people complained. Most of the membership, and indeed the Committee, have had as much of your brother as they can stand.”

“I know the feeling,” Kim said. “What specifically did Chingford say to Fairfax?”

“He called him a dirty dog and a villain and a double-crossing cheat and so on, liberally peppered with expletives. I asked him what the issue was, and he refused to explain. If he’d offered an actual grievance, we could have taken it into account, but he insisted, repeatedly and with language, that it was none of my business. Given the lack of justification, the Committee agreed that Lord Chingford should make a public unreserved apology to Mr. Fairfax or cease to be a member.” He scrunched up his face. “I told him that decision late yesterday afternoon. I can’t say it was a pleasant conversation. He made a number of highly personal remarks to me, and various unfounded allegations about other members and staff.”

“What allegations?”

“I’d prefer not to repeat them. Lord Chingford frequently makes assertions with no factual basis.” That was as smooth a way of calling someone a howling liar as Will had heard. “Such-and-such cheated at cards, so-and-so stole from members’ pockets, someone else was having his way with the housemaids, others were up to unmentionable vice in the facilities. That sort of thing. I asked him if he could substantiate any of it, and of course he could not. I said if he wouldn’t explain his grudge against Mr. Fairfax, I couldn’t take it seriously.”

“Did you consider he might have had reasons he couldn’t disclose?”

Knowle tapped his fingertips together. “I assured Lord Chingford of my absolute discretion. You know the Club rules of confidence.”

“Rather like the Catholic seal of the confessional,” Kim remarked to Will.

“We pride ourselves on respecting our members’ privacy,” Knowle said stiffly. “If he had told me anything I should not disclose it, even under these circumstances. But I do feel able to state that he refused to give me any reason at all.”

“What happened then?”

“He left me, I’d say about six-thirty, maybe a little later. Once he’d gone I made a record of our meeting, and a memorandum for the Committee and so on. There’s a great deal of paperwork needed in these cases. When I finished, I rang for a sandwich and a glass of beer. Quiller brought it up, the Chief Steward if you recall, and stayed to chat while I ate. You know he’s turning seventy in six months?”