Cicely and Ruth O’Callaghan were at the window. He got the impression that Ruth had been sitting there, perhaps crouched in that arm-chair, and had sprung up when the door opened. Cicely O’Callaghan stood erect, very grande dame and statuesque, a gloved hand resting lightly on the window-sill.

“Good evening, Inspector Alleyn,” she said. Ruth gave a loud sob and gasped “Good evening.”

Alleyn felt that his only hope of avoiding a scene was to hurry things along at a business-like canter.

“It was extremely kind of you both to come,” he said briskly. “I shan’t keep you more than a few minutes. As you know, we are to go over the events of the operation, and I thought it better to start from here.” He glanced cheerfully at Ruth.

“Certainly,” said Lady O’Callaghan.

“Now.” Alleyn turned towards the bed, immaculate with its smooth linen and tower of rounded pillows. “Now, Nurse Graham has brought you here. When you come in you sit-where? On each side of the bed? Is that how it was, nurse?”

“Yes. Lady O’Callaghan was here,” answered the special quietly.

“Then if you wouldn’t mind taking up those positions—”

With an air of stooping to the level of a rather vulgar farce, Lady O’Callaghan sat in the chair on the right-hand side of the bed.

“Come along, Ruth,” she said tranquilly.

“But why? Inspector Alleyn—it’s so dreadful—so horribly cold-blooded—unnecessary. I don’t understand… You were so kind…” She boggled over her words, turned her head towards him with a gesture of complete wretchedness. Alleyn walked quickly towards her.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I know it’s beastly. Take courage— your brother would understand, I think.”

She gazed miserably at him. With her large unlovely face blotched with tears, and her pale eyes staring doubtfully up into his, she seemed dreadfully vulnerable. Something in his manner may have given her a little help. Like an obedient and unwieldy animal she got up and blundered across to the other chair.

“What now, nurse?”

“The patient half regained consciousness soon after we came in. I heard Sir John and went out.”

“Will you do that, please?”

She went away quietly.

“And now,” Alleyn went on, “what happened? Did the patient speak?”

“I believe he said the pain was severe. Nothing else,” murmured Lady O’Callaghan.

“What did you say to each other?”

“I—I told him it was his appendix and that the doctor would soon be here—something of that sort. He seemed to lose consciousness again, I thought.”

“Did you speak to each other?”

“I don’t remember.”

Alleyn made a shot in the dark.

“Did you discuss his pain?”

“I do not think so,” she said composedly.

Ruth turned her head and gazed with a sort of damp surprise at her sister-in-law.

“You remember doing so, do you, Miss O’Callaghan?” said Alleyn.

“I think—yes—oh, Cicely!”