He got up and walked about the room, still with some trace of elasticity in his tread. At last he said, ‘It seems to me there would be little point in my refusing to give you the content of this letter since you tell me, and I believe you, that the original is extant. You can get a translation easily enough. In effect it appears that someone—you will have seen the name—calling himself Silas J. Sebastian had written to my firm asking if they could give him any information about my wife. Apparently the writer had said he represented an American magazine and was organizing a series of articles on the incursions into the business world of persons of the old nobilities. From the point of view of their wives. The writer, it appears, went on to say that he had a personal interest in my wife as he believed they were distantly related. Evidently he asked for my wife’s maiden name. This letter is an answer to their inquiry.’

‘Yes?’

‘It says—’ The Baron seemed to flinch from his intention. He shut his eyes for a moment and then examined the letter as if he saw it for the first time. Presently in an extraordinarily prim voice that seemed not to belong to him he said: ‘In accordance with my standing instructions it states that the Baroness Van der Veghel is a permanent invalid and lives in retirement.’

‘When did you first encounter Sebastian Mailer?’

‘Eighteen months ago. In Geneva.’

‘And a few weeks later he wrote his letter. He didn’t trouble to find himself an entirely dissimilar pseudonym.’

‘No doubt he felt sure of himself.’

‘After all,’ Alleyn said, ‘this letter might be a standard reply to choke off boring inquiries.’

‘He did not think so. He pursued the matter,’ said the Baron. ‘He extended his investigations.’

‘To—?’

‘I regret: I must decline to answer.’

‘Very well. Let us accept that he found his material. Will you tell me this much? When you met him again, in Rome, the other day, had you any idea—?’

‘None! My God, none! Not until—’

‘Until?’

‘A week before the—before S. Tommaso.’

‘And then the blackmailing process began?’

‘Yes.’

‘Were you prepared to pay?’

‘Mr Alleyn, I had no choice. I flew to Geneva and obtained the money in notes of small denomination.’

‘You presented a brave front,’ Alleyn said, ‘on that expedition. You and your wife. So much enthusiasm for the antiquated! Such joie de vivre!’

The Baron Van der Veghel looked steadily at Alleyn for some few moments and then he said, ‘You yourself have a distinguished and brilliant wife, I think? We have admired her work very greatly. She is a superb painter.’

Alleyn said nothing.