It wasn’t difficult to identify the one they needed. It was by far the smallest of the bunch and it fitted easily into the lock of both drawers. They tackled the left-hand one first, but Kate had to tug it open against a wedge of paper jammed at the back. As she jerked it open, old bills, postcards, an out-of-date diary, some unused Christmas cards and a collection of letters sprang from it and littered the floor. Benton opened the cupboard and that, too, was crammed with bulging files, old theatre programmes, scripts and publicity photographs, a wash bag which, when opened, revealed old stage makeup.

Kate said, “We won’t bother to go through all this mess now. Let’s see if we get more joy from the other drawer.”

This yielded more easily to her pull. It contained a manila folder and a book. The book was an old paperback, Untimely Death by Cyril Hare, and the folder contained only one sheet of paper, with writing on both sides. It was a copy of a will, headed The Last Will and Testament of Peregrine Richard Westhall and dated in letters on the last page: Witness my hand this seventh day of July, two thousand and five. With the will was a receipt for five pounds from the Holborn Probate Office. The whole document was handwritten, a black upright hand, strong in places but becoming more shaky in the last paragraph. The first paragraph appointed his son, Marcus St. John Westhall; his daughter, Candace Dorothea Westhall; and his solicitors, Kershaw & Price-Nesbitt, as executors. The second paragraph expressed his wish for a private cremation with no one present other than immediate family, no religious observances and no later memorial service. The third paragraph—the writing here rather larger—stated: I give and bequeath all my books to Winchester College. Any which the College does not wish to have to be sold or otherwise disposed of as my son, Marcus St. John Westhall, shall decide. I give all else that I possess in money and chattels in equal measure to my two children, Marcus St. John Westhall and Candace Dorothea Westhall.

The will was signed and the signature witnessed by Elizabeth Barnes, describing herself as a domestic servant and giving the address as Stone Cottage, Stoke Cheverell, and Grace Holmes, a nurse, of Rosemary Cottage, Stoke Cheverell.

Kate said, “Nothing on the face of it to interest Robin Boyton, but he obviously took the trouble to get this copy. I suppose the book had better be read. How quick a reader are you, Benton?”

“Pretty quick, ma’am. It’s not particularly long.”

“Then you’d better start tackling it in the car, and I’ll drive. We’ll get a bag from Coxon and get this stuff to the Old Police Cottage. I don’t suppose there’s anything in the other cupboard to interest us, but we better go through it.”