‘Of course, Miss. Meanwhile, if you would care . . .’ His gaze went to the door of the cloakroom, but at that moment the door of the study opened and out came a young man, very good-looking, though at the moment the pallor of shock under his sun tan gave his skin a peculiar colour. Behind him was Canon Thorby wearing a dark-crimson dressing gown.

‘. . . absolutely right, Ed,’ he was saying. ‘Don’t give it another thought. I’ll get in touch . . . Why, Miss Mayfield, what in heaven’s name has happened to you?’

‘Nothing that matters. Only, I must talk to you at once.’

She felt calm and purposeful, but as she spoke her lower jaw shook convulsively.

Canon Thorby put his large, warm hand under her arm, cupping her elbow.

‘Come and sit down,’ he said soothingly. ‘Reeve, bring a pot of coffee, as strong as they can make it, and quick.’ He pushed the study door closed and led Miss Mayfield to a sofa and gently lowered her. It was impossible even to hazard a guess as to what had brought her, so early in the morning, in such a state, one cheek bleeding and rapidly swelling, her usually neat hair broken from its chignon and tumbling about her shoulders, her cotton dress soiled and torn.

‘Are you hurt?’ he asked. ‘Do you need a doctor?’

‘Oh, no, no. All superficial. I just . . .’

‘Then, if you don’t mind, I will make a telephone call first. Renham 4, please,’ he said calmly into the receiver. In the seconds that elapsed before he was connected, he gave her a long reassuring look – not a smile, but a glance which told her that in a moment she should have his full attention and all would be well.

‘Ah, Cobb? Canon Thorby here. I’m afraid that for once we do need you. We have what seems to be a case of suicide. . . . Yes, tragic, isn’t it? . . . Wesley Baines . . . If you would. Thank you. I’ll see you then. Goodbye.

‘I don’t think it was suicide. You mustn’t . . . you mustn’t start off with that idea,’ she said.

‘I’m afraid we must face it. Ed Woodly was just describing to me how he and another man, on their way to work, found the body. Not submerged, just the face, in quite shallow water. I’m afraid the inference . . .’

‘I know how and where he was found. I’ve just come from the place.’

‘My dear Miss Mayfield, whatever induced you? . . . Oh, thank you, Reeve.’ He set about pouring the strong black coffee, rose and brought a cup to her, holding out the sugar. ‘Take a lot. It’s supposed to be good for shock. And you have had a shock, haven’t you?’

‘I’ll tell you everything. I’ll be as brief as I can.’

‘Tell me first, what happened to you to get you into this state.’