“That’s what he says,” Belinda said. “I suppose I had better give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“He was very concerned when he heard about you, you know.”

“Was he?” She tried to sound unimpressed by this but I knew her well enough to see the spark in her eyes.

“So back to business. Colin Hucklebee. Where did he live, do you remember that?”

“The Midlands somewhere. He had a Midlands accent. We teased him about that. Birmingham?” Then she waved her hand. “Look, just forget it. It’s clutching at straws, as I said. It’s all hopeless.”

I didn’t know what else to say. I could see all too easily that the police might question Tony’s friends in London who might remember about Tony boasting about spending the night with Belinda. How could I promise to help her when I had no way of proving that Rose wanted her husband dead? We could hunt for the wagon, I thought. There might be a useful fingerprint on it, or even the fact that it had been hurled into a ravine or hidden beneath the bushes might make the police believe that Belinda wasn’t responsible. But then Belinda could equally have killed Tony elsewhere and transported his body. It seemed hopeless.

“I’m not sure what to do,” I said. “Should I find a hotel in Truro so that I can be near you, or should I keep on staying at White Sails so that I can be around in case anything useful happens or your father turns up?”

“You’re staying at White Sails?”

“Well, I could hardly stay on at Trewoma, could I? Rose and her mother glaring at me suspiciously and a murderer among them too. At least this way I’m close by.”

“Very brave of you, old thing,” Belinda said. “Especially now we know that anyone can creep in from the cave below.”

“That is a concern,” I said, thinking of Darcy’s arms around me last night. “But there is nowhere else nearby, is there?”

“I suppose not. But how will I get in touch with you if I am suddenly taken up to London?”

“You can telephone Trengilly. Jago knows where I am.”

“And he’s really concerned about me?”

“He is,” I said.

“I’m sorry, miss, but you’ve had your allotted time,” the policeman said. “You have to leave now.”

I hardly thought this was the right time to tell him that I was “my lady” or at the very least “Mrs.” and not “miss.” It didn’t seem worth worrying about in the grand scheme of things.

“Am I allowed to hug my friend?” I asked.

The policeman’s expression softened. “Not really. Well, go on, then. I’ll turn the other way.”

I was just giving Belinda a hug when heavy footsteps approached and the door was opened. Inspector Watt came in, followed by the sergeant.