Benton got out his notebook. He had early in his career devised a distinctive if eccentric method of shorthand which, although it owed something to Mr. Pitman’s ingenious system, was highly personal. His chief had almost perfect recall, but it was his job to watch, listen and record everything said or seen. He knew why AD had decided on this preliminary group interrogation. It was important to get an overall view of exactly what had taken place since Rhoda Gradwyn had entered the Manor on the afternoon of 13 December, and this could be achieved more accurately if everyone concerned was present to add comments or make corrections. Most suspects were capable of lying with some conviction when questioned alone—some, indeed, were remarkably adept at it. Benton recalled a number of occasions when tearful, apparently heart-broken lovers and relations appealed for help in solving a murder, even when they knew where they had hidden the body. But to sustain a lie in company was more difficult. A suspect might be adept at controlling his own facial expression, but the responses of his hearers could be a revelation.

Dalgliesh said, “The idea of calling you together is to get a group picture of exactly what happened to Rhoda Gradwyn from the moment she arrived here until the discovery of her body. I shall, of course, need to speak to you separately, but I hope we shall be able to make some progress in the next half-hour or so.”

There was a silence broken by Helena Cressett, who said, “The first person to see Miss Gradwyn was Mogworthy, who opened the gate for her. The reception party, consisting of Sister Holland, Mr. Westhall and myself, was waiting in the great hall.”

Her voice was calm; the words were direct and matter-of-fact. For Benton the message was clear. If we have to go through this public charade, for God’s sake let’s get on with it.

Mogworthy stared at Dalgliesh. “That’s right. She was on time, more or less. Miss Helena said to expect her after tea and before dinner, and I had my eyes open for her from four o’clock. At six-forty-five she arrived. I opened the gate for her, and she parked the car herself. And she said she’d cope with her own luggage—only one case, and that on wheels. A very determined lady. I waited till she’d gone round to the front of the Manor and saw the door open and Miss Helena waiting for her. I reckoned there was no more for me to do, so I went home.”

Dalgliesh said, “You didn’t go into the Manor, perhaps to carry her bag up to her room?”

“I did not. If she could wheel it from the car park, I reckoned she could get it up to the patients’ floor. If not, someone would do it for her. The last I saw of her was going through the front door.”