“So young?” Kim said. “He seemed near retirement when I last set eyes on him.”

“He took up his first post here when he was almost twenty-one. He’s desperate to make it to fifty years’ service, the dear old fellow and I hope he can stay the course. We discussed his health and his plans and so on. It was a very pleasant interlude. And then Mr. Mitra came in, announced he’d found Mr. Fairfax dead, and told me what Lord Chingford had said.”

“What time was that?”

“Half past seven or so. We went out at once and—well, you saw the body. We left Quiller to guard the billiard room and make sure nobody came in. Mr. Mitra went to telephone the police, while I found Lord Chingford and escorted him to the silence room to wait for their arrival.”

“On your own?”

“That’s right.”

“You weren’t concerned for your safety?” Kim asked. “If you thought he’d just stabbed a man to death, why didn’t you bring someone with you?”

Knowle opened his mouth, and shut it again. “Good heavens. When you put it like that, I feel extremely foolish. In my defence, the whole business seemed unreal. A murdered man in the Club, one of our members suspected—and Chingford wasn’t behaving like a murderer, if you know what I mean. He treated the whole business as though it were a misunderstanding that would be very quickly cleared up, and I suppose I took my cue from him. Actually, he was very calm indeed, at that point, as if—”

He stopped. Kim said, “Go on.”

Knowle hesitated a second. “I was going to say, the calm after the storm. As if he’d vented his fury elsewhere.”

Kim shut his eyes. “Right.”

“That was just an impression. In any case, I was careful not to provoke him. I merely said the business would need clearing up and he was a witness, and he took it quite reasonably.”

“I see. Thank you. Can you tell me about Fairfax?”

Knowle leaned back in his chair. “He joined us in 1919. We had a number of vacant places after the war, of course. A stockbroker who had recently come into a legacy and retired early. Very pleasant man, no trouble at all. Really, my first meaningful encounter with him was after yesterday’s row.”

“Nothing noteworthy? No problems, or scandals?”

“Some people can belong to a club without turning it upside down,” Knowle said. “All I can think of is that his wife divorced him a couple of years ago. Regrettable, but I suppose we must move with the times.”

“Friends?”

“He seemed on good terms with everyone. I don’t recall any particular cronies.”

“George Yoxall?”

Knowle frowned. “Not that I know of. Mr. Yoxall’s about thirty years younger. Why do you ask?”