They had heard the sound of the departing car even before they reached the stones. There was no point in making a desperate dash to follow. Sharon had been the top priority. Now Dalgliesh said to Kate, “Look after things here, will you? Get a statement as soon as Chandler-Powell says she’s fit. Benton and I will go after Miss Westhall.”

The four security men, alerted by the flames, were coping with the burning hedge, which dampened by the earlier rain was quickly subdued into charred twigs and acrid smoke. Now low cloud slid from the face of the moon, and the night became numinous. The stones, silvered in the moon’s aberrant light, shone like spectral tombs, and the figures, which Dalgliesh knew were Helena, Lettie and the Bostocks, became discarnate shapes disappearing into the darkness. He watched while Chandler-Powell, hieratic in his long dressing gown, with Flavia at his side, carried Sharon over the wall and then they, too, disappeared into the lime walk. He was aware of someone who remained and now, suddenly in the moonlight, Marcus Westhall’s face seemed a disembodied floating image, the face of a dead man.

Moving up to him, Dalgliesh said, “Where is she likely to go? We have to know. Nothing is served by delay.”

Marcus’s voice, when it came, was hoarse. “She’ll go to the sea. She loves the sea. She’ll go where she likes to swim. Kimmeridge Bay.”

Benton had rapidly pulled on trousers and had struggled into a thick jersey as he ran towards the fire. Now Dalgliesh called out to him. “Do you remember the number of Candace Westhall’s car?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Get on to the local traffic division. They’ll start the search. Suggest they try Kimmeridge. We’ll use the Jag.”

“Right, sir.” Benton was off, running strongly.

But now Marcus had found his voice. He stumbled after Dalgliesh, clumsy as an old man, shouting hoarsely, “I’m coming with you. Wait for me! Wait for me!”

“There’s no point. In the end she will be found.”

“I have to come. I need to be there when you find her.”

Dalgliesh wasted no time in argument. Marcus Westhall had a right to be with them and could be helpful in identifying the right stretch of beach. He said, “Get a warm coat, but hurry.”