Upon entering the drawing room she saw that there were two policemen on the sofa, the older one from the day before and another, this one with more braid on his shoulders. They both stood up but did not smile. Her heart began to race.

‘Gentlemen, what an unexpected pleasure. I do hope you have been offered refreshments?’

Her legs were trembling; she sat down with a thump in front of them.

‘Mrs Craig,’ said the unknown man. ‘I am Detective Inspector MacCallister. You know my colleague Sergeant Donnelly.’

‘Yes, yes I do.’ Ann clasped her hands on her lap.

‘There have been some allegations made, relating to yourself, that are extremely serious. I shall itemise these and then you may speak. Do you understand?’

She clenched her hands tight and nodded.

He cleared his throat then looked directly at her. His face was grey as granite.

‘It is alleged that Robert Craig was never on the train over the Tay on the twenty-eighth of December, 1879. That he returned here at some time over the past few days. That, on realising he was alive, you conspired to murder him. During this undertaking, you involved two otherwise innocent men, both of whom are now also party to a crime. First, you had intimate relations with Dr Archibald Donaldson and he falsified the death certificate to state that your husband had been on the train and his body in the water for two weeks, when in fact he had three lesions in his heart, suggesting that he had been stabbed, and was in the water for less than two days. Secondly, you involved the manager at your husband’s mill, one Alfred Johnston. He had the murder weapon about his person. He insisted he did nothing apart from relieve you of this.’

Fool, the man was a fool.

‘In case, Mrs Craig, you are about to fabricate excuses, I shall relay the facts. Your neighbour Margaret Donaldson found out about you and her husband and says the relations took place in the summer house in the garden. She has evidence upon her husband’s clothing.’ He stared directly at her, his steely eyes unwavering. ‘Your housekeeper Mrs Baxter found two bloodied handkerchiefs in your coat pocket, one yours, one belonging to Alfred Johnston; his initials were on them and the housekeeper recognised them. She brought those to Mrs Donaldson who then accompanied Mrs Baxter to the police station this morning along with the letter from the morgue. The letter which was certified by one Dr Archibald Donaldson.’

Traitors, the lot of them.

‘I expect Mrs Baxter spoke to your assistant, her nephew Jimmy, Sergeant Donnelly?’

‘Aye, she did that,’ mumbled the Sergeant, looking at his feet.

‘Is there anything you would like to say, Mrs Craig?’

Donnelly got out his notebook and had his pencil poised.