“I really don’t think there’s very much else,” said Alleyn. “There’s a small point about the arrival of your three elder sons after Lord Wutherwood left. In what order did they come into the drawing-room?”

“The twins came in first. Henry appeared a moment or two later.”

“How long, should you say, sir? A minute? Two minutes?”

“I shouldn’t think longer than two minutes. I don’t think any one had spoken before he came in.”

“You didn’t at once tell them that Lord Wutherwood had promised to see you out of the wood?”

“I didn’t, no. I was still rather chastened, you see, by my scolding.”

“Oh, yes,” said Alleyn politely. “Of course. That really is all, I think, sir. I’m so sorry but I’m afraid I shall have to litter a few men about the flat for a little while still.”

“Surely we may go out to-morrow?”

“Of course. You won’t, any of you, want to leave London?”

“No.”

“The inquest will probably be on Monday. I wonder, sir, if you can give me the name of Lord Wutherwood’s solicitors.”

“Rattisbon. They’ve been our family lawyers for generations. I must ring up old Rattisbon, I suppose.”

“Then that really is everything.” Alleyn stood up. “We shall ask you to sign a transcript of your statement tomorrow, if you will. I must thank you very much indeed, sir, for so patiently enduring all this police procedure.”

Lord Charles did not rise. He looked up with an air of hesitancy. “As a matter of fact,” he said, “there’s one other thing that rather bothers us, Alleyn. Tinkerton, my sister-inlaw’s maid, you know, came into the dining-room just now in a great state. It seems that my sister-in-law, whom I may say we all thought was safely asleep in my wife’s bed, has now waked up and is in a really appalling frame of mind. She says she must have something or another from their house in Brummell Street and that Tinkerton and only Tinkerton can find it. Some patent medicine or another, it seems to be. Well now, your men are allowing no one to leave the flat. I explained all that to Tinkerton and she went off only to return saying that Violet was out of bed trying to dress herself and proving too big a handful for the nurse. The nurse, for her part, says she won’t tackle the job singlehanded. We’ve rung up for a second nurse but now Tinkerton, although she’s perfectly willing to carry on with the nurses, has obviously taken fright. It’s all a frightful bore, and Imogen and I are both at our wits’ end. I won’t pretend we wouldn’t be most relieved to see the last of poor Violet, but we also feel that if you allowed her to go she ought to have somebody who is not a servant or a strange nurse to be with her in that mausoleum of a house. Imogen says she will go but that I will not have. She’s completely fagged out and where she is to sleep if Violet stays here for the rest of the night I simply don’t know. I—really the whole thing is getting a little more than we can reasonably be expected to endure. I wonder if you could possibly help us?”