“Well,” said Colin after a long silence, “I see no reason why we should announce in anything but plain English the fact that the gaff is blown, the cat out of the bag, and the balloon burst.”

“What do you mean!” cried Charlot. “You didn’t—”

“No, Mama, we didn’t tell him because he already knew,” said Stephen. “I was the l-liftman. I did it with my little button.”

“I told you so,” Frid observed. “I told you that you’d never get away with it.”

Stephen looked icily at her. “Is it possible,” he said, “that any sister of mine can utter that detestable, that imbecilic phrase? Yes, Frid, dear, you told us so.”

“But, Stephen,” said Charlot in a voice so unlike her own that Roberta wondered for a second who had spoken, “Stephen, he doesn’t think—you— Stephen?”

“It’s all right, Mum,” said Colin. “I don’t see how he could.”

“Of course not,” said Lord Charles loudly. “My dear girl, you’re so upset and tired you don’t know what you’re saying. The police are not fools, Immy. You’ve nothing to upset yourself about. Go to bed, my dear.” And he added, without great conviction, an ancient phrase of comfort. “Things will seem better in the morning,” said Lord Charles.

“How can they?” asked Charlot.

“My darling heart, of course they will. We’re in for a very disagreeable time no doubt. Somebody has killed Gabriel and, although it’s all perfectly beastly, we naturally hope that the police will find his murderer. It’s a horrible business, God knows, but there’s no need for us to go adding to its horror by imagining all sorts of fantastic developments.” He touched his moustache. “My dear,” he said, “to suppose that the boys are in any sort of danger is quite monstrous; it is to insult them, Immy. Innocent people are in no kind of danger in these cases.”

Frid looked towards the far end of the room, where the constable’s red head showed over the back of his chair. “Do you agree to all that?” she said loudly. The constable, slightly startled, got to his feet.

“I beg your pardon, Miss?”

“It would be grand,” Frid said, “if we knew your name.”

“Martin, Miss.”

“Oh. Well, Mr. Martin, I asked if you would say innocent people are as safe as houses, no matter how fishy things may look?”

“Yes, Miss,” said the constable.

“My good ass,” said Henry, glaring at Frid, “who looks fishy?”

“Henry, don’t speak like that to Frid.”

“I’m sorry, Mama, but honestly! Frid is.”

“I’m not,” said Frid. “We all look fishy. Don’t we?” she demanded of the constable. “Don’t we look as fishy as Billingsgate?”

“I couldn’t say, Miss,” said the constable uneasily, and Roberta suddenly felt extremely sorry for him.

“That will do, Frid,” said Lord Charles. Roberta had not imagined his voice could carry so sharp an edge. Frid crossed the room stagily and sat on the arm of her mother’s chair.

There was a tap at the door and the constable, with an air of profound relief, answered it. The usual muttered colloquy followed, but it was punctuated by a loud interruption outside. “It’s perfectly all right,” said a cheerful voice in the hall. “Mr. Alleyn knows all about it and Lady Lamprey expects me. If you don’t believe me, toddle along and ask.”