‘I have no idea and no desire to know. I have given up on Odelia. Fortunately, it does not seem to have ruined her chances. Young men today are less interested in the past history of their brides. Ianthia, here, was as pure as the driven – well, in any case, I do not know about Odelia. If the police approve, then go about your business here, Mr Holmes. I suppose if you’ve bothered to make the journey, you might as well. Now, if you do not mind, Mrs Wyndham and I have business to attend to.’

His wife started and looked at him in alarm.

‘Life goes on, dear one,’ he said without a trace of warmth. ‘The student luncheon will proceed. Get dressed, Ianthia, and see to the final preparations.’ He stood up and turned to face us. ‘I am hosting a luncheon with my very best young men.’

A fresh stream of tears burst forth from Mrs Wyndham, and the same maid leaned in with a second dry handkerchief. She helped Mrs Wyndham to her feet.

‘Pull yourself together, Ianthia,’ the professor said crisply. The maid led the feeble woman from the room. Holmes and I exchanged a glance.

‘May I have a look at Miss Wyndham’s rooms, please?’ said Holmes.

The professor waved a dismissive hand at my friend, then called out, ‘Polly!’ A pale young servant with red hair and a starched cap rushed in and curtseyed nervously to us. ‘Show them to Miss Odelia’s room. Hadley, a moment, please,’ he said to the senior policeman.

He gave Holmes a hard look. ‘I don’t know who is paying you, Mr Holmes, but it will not be me. Be out of here within the hour, before the students arrive,’ he ordered, and departed the room.

CHAPTER 13

Polly

We were escorted upstairs by the young servant. Holmes paused in the hallway at the entrance to the missing girl’s sitting-room, and beyond it, her bedroom. He glanced across the hall to what looked like a similar suite, but this one with a closed door leading into the bedroom. ‘Her sister’s rooms?’ Holmes asked the girl.

‘Yes. Miss Atalanta.’

‘Older?’

‘By two years. Atalanta is twenty.’

We next entered Dillie’s sitting-room, and we passed through to her bedroom. It was a large, airy room, with windows on two walls, the leaves of a large plane tree next to the window providing a lacy screen through which another grove of trees was visible at some distance. Behind that, the beautiful Cam glittered in the bright morning sun. The furniture, including the canopy bed, was all in white, and the bed was made up. On it sat several dolls, with a vacancy where the drowned doll must have resided.