“She did mention that there was only one other patient in residence, but she didn’t tell me where she was, or her name. Anyway, I don’t see that it matters. And I could have been mistaken about the light. Only I wasn’t about the lift. I don’t think I could have been mistaken about hearing the lift going down. Perhaps that was what woke me up.” She turned to Dalgliesh, “And now I want to go home. My husband said I wouldn’t be bothered, that the best team in the Met would be put on the job and I’d be protected. I don’t want to stay in a place where there’s a murderer on the loose. And it could have been me. Perhaps it was me he wanted to kill. After all, my husband has enemies. Powerful men always have. And I was next door, alone, helpless. Suppose he’d gone to the wrong room and killed me by mistake? Patients come here because they believe it’s safe. God knows it’s expensive enough. And how did he get in? I’ve told you everything I know, but I don’t think I could swear to it in court. I don’t see why I should have to.”

Dalgliesh said, “It may be necessary, Mrs. Skeffington. I shall almost certainly want to speak to you again, and if so, I can of course see you in London, either at your house or at New Scotland Yard.”

The prospect was clearly unwelcome, but, glancing from Kate to Dalgliesh, Mrs. Skeffington obviously decided it was wiser not to comment. Instead, she smiled at Dalgliesh and assumed the voice of a wheedling child. “And, please, may I go now? I’ve tried to be helpful, I really have. But it was late and I was alone and frightened and now it all seems like a terrible dream.”

But Dalgliesh hadn’t yet finished with his witness. He asked, “Were you given keys to the west door when you arrived, Mrs. Skeffington?”

“Yes, I was. By Sister. I’m always given two security keys. This time it was set number one. I gave them to Mrs. Frensham when she helped me with my packing. Robert came up to carry the bags to the car. He wasn’t allowed to use the lift, so he had to lug them down the stairs. Mr. Chandler-Powell ought to employ a manservant. Mog isn’t really suitable to be in the Manor in any capacity.”

“Where did you put the keys during the night?”

“By my bed, I suppose. No, it was on the table in front of the television. Anyway, I gave them to Mrs. Frensham. If they’re lost, that’s nothing to do with me.”

Dalgliesh said, “No, they’re not lost. Thank you for your help, Mrs. Skeffington.”