Casey held the door open, and looked relieved when an electronic beeping started. Cooper realized that an even worse scenario might have occurred to the agent – the possibility that a member of his staff had forgotten to re-set the alarm.

‘How many people have access to the alarm code?’ asked Fry.

Casey clicked the cover of the keypad closed. ‘We’re not a big company. Half a dozen, at most.’

‘We might need their names.’

‘Yes, anything you like.’

The agent flicked a switch, and lights came on. Thank goodness Casey’s company was at least remembering to pay the electricity bill.

Cooper turned slowly. The hallway wasn’t large for a house this size, but the stone-flagged floor gave it a cold feeling. It also explained the way their voices had begun to echo from the moment they stepped over the threshold. The walls were almost bare, with pale expanses of plaster where pictures had been removed for storage. But the furniture had been left in place – several small tables, an empty display cabinet, an oak chest covered with a lace cloth. Directly facing the door were the main stairs, with square balustrades and a worn red carpet. Despite the lights, the doorways looked particularly gloomy, especially those that lay at the back of the house, in the shadow of the stairs.

‘It’s a bit cold in here, isn’t it?’

‘We keep the heating turned down to a minimum in the summer,’ said Casey.

Cooper wondered if there was a ghost here. Almost certainly. Didn’t every house of this age have at least one? Probably the rooms were haunted by some young kitchen maid who had drowned herself, but still appeared to answer the bell now and then in the deepest hours of the night. Not that anybody was left to ring the bell now the Saxtons had departed.

He heard John Casey’s footsteps on the flags behind him, moving to the right towards one of the doors. The agent was anxious to get on with the inspection, to reassure himself that none of his scenarios were true. He was praying there was no theft, no vandalism, no squatters.

But then Fry stopped him with another question. She was still standing near the keypad for the burglar alarm, and Cooper could tell by the tone of her voice that she wasn’t satisfied with Casey. He’d been slipshod, less than professional in his responsibilities. He didn’t come up to her high standards. Very few people did.

‘Mr Casey,’ she said, ‘why has your company been short-staffed?’

‘Oh, we had a couple of employees leave earlier this year. Experienced people, too. They’re difficult to replace, you know. We’re in a position of trust here, so we have to be a bit careful who we take on to replace them.’

‘And did those employees have access to this alarm code?’