“It won’t be a solemn affair. I just want to check over your own movements, which seem to be very plain-sailing, and then I’ll ask you to tell me anything you can think of that may help us to sort things out a little.”

“I expect I’m much more likely to muddle them up, but I’ll try to keep my head.”

“According to my notes,” said Alleyn, looking dubiously at them, “you went to your room with Lady Wutherwood and Lady Katherine Lobe and remained there until you heard Lord Wutherwood call the second time. Then, followed by Lady Wutherwood, you went to the drawing-room.”

“Yes. She didn’t come into the drawing-room, you know. I hurried on ahead of her.”

“To ask for some one to take them down in the lift?”

“Yes,” she said steadily. “That’s it.”

“Did you see anybody else on your way to the drawing-room?”

“I think Mike was in the passage. Nobody else.”

“And Lord Wutherwood was in the lift?”

“I suppose he was. I didn’t look. He sounded cross so I rather skidded past, do you know?”

“I see. And then you asked for some one to work the lift and Mr. Stephen Lamprey went out and worked it.”

Alleyn felt, rather than heard, her draw in her breath. She said lightly: “No, that’s not quite right. You remember that we don’t know which twin went out.”

“I think I know,” said Alleyn. “I’m not trying to trap you into an admission. We’ll leave it that a twin went out and you followed, as far as the hall, to say good-bye. Lady Wutherwood got into the lift and you returned to the drawing-room. That’s all right?”

“About me—yes.”

“I’ll ask you to sign it later, if you will. What I hope you will do now is give us some sort of side-light of Lord Wutherwood himself. I’m afraid many of my questions will sound impertinent. Perhaps the most offensive part of police investigation is the ferreting. We have to ferret, you know, like anything.”

“Ferret away,” said Lady Charles.

“Well, can you think of anybody who would want to kill Lord Wutherwood?”

“That’s not ferreting; it’s more like bombing. I can’t think of anybody who, in their right minds, would actually and literally want to kill Gabriel. I expect lots of people have, as one says, felt like killing him. He was a frightfully irritating fellow, poor dear. Not a fragment of charm and so drearily ungay, do you know? I mean, it does help if people are gay, doesn’t it? I set enormous store on gaiety. But of course one doesn’t kill people simply because they are not exactly one’s own cup of tea and I suppose he had his grey little pleasures. He was passionately interested in plumbing and drainage, I understand, and carried out all sorts of experiments at Deepacres where one pulls chains when one would expect to turn taps and the other way round. So, what with his drains and his Chinese pots, I daresay he had quite a giddy time. And with Violet wrapped up in her black magic, you may say they both had hobbies.”