“They’ve got a cottage free some hundred yards or so from the Manor. It used to be the house of the village constable, but they didn’t replace him when he retired and at present it’s empty, awaiting sale. There’s a B and B further down the road, so I suppose Miskin and Benton-Smith can make themselves comfortable there. There’ll be Chief Inspector Keith Whetstone from the local force to meet you at the scene. They’re not removing the body until you and Doc Glenister arrive. Do you want me to do anything more this end?”

Dalgliesh said, “No. I’ll get on to Inspector Miskin and Sergeant Benton-Smith. But it will save time if someone could speak to my secretary. There are meetings on Monday which I’ll have to miss, and Tuesday’s had better be cancelled. After that I’ll be in touch.”

Harkness said, “Right, I’ll see to it. Good luck,” and replaced the receiver.

Dalgliesh returned to the library. Professor Lavenham said, “Not bad news, I hope. Your parents are well?”

“Both have died, sir. That was an official call. I’m afraid that I shall have to leave urgently.”

“Then I mustn’t keep you.”

They were being hastened to the door with what seemed unnecessary speed. Dalgliesh feared that the professor might comment that to lose one parent may be regarded as a misfortune, but to lose both looked very like carelessness, but it was apparent that there were some remarks that even his future father-in-law baulked at.

They walked swiftly to the car. Dalgliesh knew that Emma, whatever her plans, wouldn’t expect him to go out of his way to drop her. He needed to get to his office without a minute’s delay. He didn’t need to express his disappointment; Emma understood both its depth and its inevitability. As they walked together he asked about her plans for the next two days. Would she stay in London or return to Cambridge?

“Clara and Annie have said that, if our plans come unstuck, they’d love me to stay for the weekend. I’ll give them a ring.”

Clara was Emma’s best friend, and Dalgliesh understood what she valued in her: honesty, intelligence and a sturdy common sense. He had met Clara and now they were at ease with each other, but the early days of his love for Emma hadn’t been easy. Clara had made it plain that she considered him to be too old, too absorbed in his job and his poetry to make a serious commitment to any woman, and simply not good enough for Emma. Dalgliesh agreed with the last indictment, a self-incrimination which didn’t make it any more agreeable to hear it from another, particularly not from Clara. Emma must lose nothing by her love for him.