“Oh, no, no, no,” said Ruth. “That’s very funny—no, of course, I didn’t suppose—” She stopped laughing abruptly and looked disconcertingly lugubrious.

“No,” she repeated. “But it is kind, all the same, when I expect you think I’m a jolly old nuisance of an interfering woman.”

“Do sit down,” said Alleyn gently, and pulled forward a chair. Ruth shut up rather like a two-foot rule. He pushed the chair under her and returned to his own. She leant forward, resting her elbows on his desk, and gazed earnestly at him.

“Mr. Alleyn,” Ruth began, “what is this dreadful, dreadful suspicion about my brother’s death?”

“At the moment, Miss O’Callaghan, it can scarcely be called a suspicion.”

“I don’t understand. I’ve been talking to my sister-in-law. She said some dreadful things to me—terrible—appalling. She says my brother was”—Ruth drew in her breath noisily and on the crest of the intake uttered the word “murdered.”

“Lady O’Callaghan attaches a certain amount of importance to threatening letters which were sent to Sir Derek. You have heard of these letters, I expect.”

“You mean from those horrible anarchist people? Of course, I know they behaved very badly, but Derry—my brother, you know—always said they wouldn’t do anything, and I’m quite certain he was right. Nobody else could have any reason for wishing him harm.” (“She hasn’t heard about the other letters, then,” thought Alleyn.) “Everybody adored him, simply adored him, dear old boy. Mr. Alleyn, I’ve come to beg you not to go on with the case. The inquest was bad enough, but the other—the—you know what I mean. I can’t endure the thought of it. Please—please, Mr. Alleyn—” She fumbled desperately in the bag and produced a colossal handkerchief.

“I’m so sorry,” said Alleyn. “I know it’s a beastly idea, but just think a little. Does it matter so much what they do to our bodies when we’ve finished with them? I can’t think so. It seems to me that the impulse to shrink from such things is based on a fallacy. Perhaps it is impertinent of me to speak so frankly.” Ruth gurgled and shook her head dolefully. “Well then, suppose there was no post-mortem, what about your feelings then? There would always be an unscotched suspicion whenever you thought of your brother.”