“That he could go whistle,” Yoxall said crisply. “Not being a complete duffer, I’d told my fiancée and her parents the whole story before I asked for her hand. We’re prepared that it may come out. I’d rather it didn’t, naturally, but my mother’s beyond hurt and Laura is an absolute brick. So I told Fairfax I’d done nothing wrong and had nothing to be ashamed of. He said that I might want to avoid the unpleasantness for Uncle Jimmy’s sake and my mother and grandfather’s memory, and mentioned a name. I didn’t recognise it, but Uncle Jimmy did, when I told him, and said it was pretty discreditable to my grandfather.”

“Fairfax knew things you didn’t?”

Yoxall nodded, his pleasant face rather grim. “Well, by that time the shock had worn off and I was in a bate. I said I wouldn’t pay a penny to keep any of it quiet, and for tuppence I’d kick him round Trafalgar Square and drag what was left of his carcass to a police station. At which he cleared off.”

“Good for you.”

“I expected something to come of it. A demand, or a letter to the future in-laws, or some such. But he had that row with Chingford at lunchtime the next day, and by the evening he was dead. So there you are.”

“Did you tell anyone about this?” Will asked.

“I went to Knowle, the Club Secretary, the morning after Fairfax made his demands. Sounds like complaining to Teacher, doesn’t it? But I didn’t choose to have my family history become public property. I haven’t done anything wrong—”

“But you still don’t want people knowing your business.”

“Exactly. I spoke to him confidentially, and he said he’d look into it and ensure something was done.”

“Like what?”

“I’ve no idea,” Yoxall said. “Kick Fairfax out, I suppose? I don’t know how the Club deals with these things. Well, that’s the point: one doesn’t find out because they make sure it’s cleared away quietly. And as I say, there wasn’t time for anything to be done. I spoke to Knowle around eleven yesterday morning, and Chingford was shouting the odds at Fairfax barely an hour later.”

“Any idea what that was about?”

“No, but one might take a guess, mightn’t one?”

“And you told the police this?”

“After the murder, yes. They didn’t seem terribly interested. The chap wanted to know whether he’d asked for money in so many words, and was rather dismissive when I said he hadn’t. He said that technically Fairfax hadn’t threatened me at all.”

“Eh? ‘Wouldn’t it be awful if people found out about you?’ is a threat.”