“Can you help us, Trudi?” Alleyn asked.

“I do not know what is all happen,” said Trudi. “I am at the priest’s hall where is a party. I sing. Schuplatter dancing also I do.”

“That’d sent them,” said Leonard and laughed.

“I return at half-past eleven o’clock and I make my hair.”

“Did you help in the search?”

“Please?”

“Did you help look for the little dog?”

“Ach! Yes. I hear the screech of Miss Cartell who is saying ‘Come Li, come Li,’ and I go.”

“There you are!” Connie cried out with a sort of gloomy triumph about nothing in particular.

Leonard murmured: “You’re wasting your time, chum.”

Alleyn said: “I should like to know if there were any personal telephone calls during the day, Miss Cartell. Apart from routine domestic ones.”

Connie stared at him distractedly. “I don’t know,” she said. “No. I don’t think so. No. Not for me.”

“For anyone else? Outgoing or incoming calls? Mr. Leiss?”

“I had a call to London,” Leonard said. “I had to put off an urgent business engagement. Thanks to your keeping me here.”

“It was a jolly long call,” Connie said, obviously with thoughts of the bill.

“Who was it made to, if you please?”

“Fellow at my club,” Leonard said grandly.

“The Hacienda?”

Leonard darted a venomous glance at him, leant back in his chair and looked at the ceiling.

“And that was the only call?” Alleyn continued.

“Far as I know,” said Connie.

“Any messages?”

“Messages?”

“Notes? Word of mouth?”

“Not that I know,” Connie said wearily.

“Please?” Trudi asked. “Message? Yes?”

“I was asking if anyone brought a letter, a written note, or a message.”

“No, they didn’t,” Moppett loudly interrupted.

“But, yes, Miss. For you. By Mr. Belt.”

“All right. All right,” Leonard drawled. “She can’t remember every damn’ thing. It didn’t amount to a row of beans—”

“One moment,” Alleyn said, raising a finger. Leonard subsided. “So Belt brought you a message from Mr. Period. When, Miss Ralston?”

“I don’t know.”

“After tea,” Trudi said.

“What was the message?”

“I didn’t pay much attention. I don’t remember,” said Moppett.

“You don’t have to talk,” Leonard said. “Shut up.” He began to whistle under his breath. Moppett nudged his foot and he stopped abruptly.

“What,” Alleyn asked, “is that tune? Is it ‘O.K. by Me’?”

“No idea, I’m afraid,” Leonard said. Moppett looked deadly sick.

“Have you had the leak in the radiator mended?”

Moppett made a strange little noise in her throat.

“Miss Ralston,” Alleyn said, “did you whistle late last night when you were near Mr. Period’s garden gate?”

There was a kind of stoppage in the room as if a film had been halted at a specific point.

Moppett said: “You must be dotty. What do you mean — in the lane?”

“Like I told you. You don’t have to say one single thing. Just keep your little trap shut, baby,” said Leonard.

“Moppett!” Connie cried out. “Don’t. Don’t say anything, darling.”

Moppett hurled herself at her guardian and clawed her like a terrified kitten. “Auntie Con!” she sobbed. “Don’t let him! Auntie Con! I’m sorry. I don’t know anything. I haven’t done anything. Auntie Con!”

Connie enfolded her with a gesture that for all its clumsiness had something classic about it. She turned her head and looked at Alleyn with desperation.

“My ward,” she said, “hasn’t anything to tell you. Don’t frighten her.”

The front doorbell sounded loudly.

“I answer?” Trudi asked composedly.

“If you please,” Alleyn said.

Leonard got up and walked away. Connie’s large uncomely hand patted Moppett as if she were a dog. Voices sounded in the hall and an exclamation from Trudi.

“My God,” Connie exclaimed, “what now?”

“Don’t let them come,” Moppett said. “Who is it? Don’t let them come.”

Connie put her aside. After a venomous and terrified look at Alleyn, Moppett joined Leonard at the far end of the room, noisily blowing her nose.

A strangulated yapping broke out and an unmistakable voice said: “Shut up, you little ass,” and then, apparently to Trudi: “Well, just for a moment.”

Désirée Bantling came in, followed by her husband. She was dressed in green and mink and carried the dishevelled and panting Pekingese.

“Hullo, Connie,” she said. “Look what we’ve found!”

Connie made a plunge at her and gathered the dog into her arms in much the same way she had taken Moppett.

“Hullo, Rory,” said Désirée, “still at it? Good evening,” she added in the direction of Fox, Moppett and Leonard.

Bimbo said: “We picked him up out there having a high old time with the boxer bitch.”

“She took another bite at poor Bimbo,” Désirée said. “Same hand and all. It’s becoming quite a thing with her. Show them, darling.”

Bimbo, who had his left hand in his overcoat pocket, said: “Do shut up about it, darling.”

“He’s rather touchy on the subject,” Désirée explained. “I can’t think why.”

“You bad boy,” Connie said. The Pekingese licked her face excitedly.

“So, knowing you’d be in a fever, we roped him in. I fear she’s seduced him, Connie,” said Désirée.

“Is nature,” Trudi observed. She was standing inside the door.

“And there,” Désirée remarked with a grin, “you have the matter in a nutshell.”

She gave a comprehensive glance round the room. “We’re not staying,” she said, “having had a pretty lethal evening. Sorry to interrupt. Come along, darling.”

Alleyn said: “Just a minute, if you don’t mind.”

She looked at him in her leisurely unconcerned way. “What, again?” she remarked and sat down.

“Where exactly did you find the dog?”

With Pixie, it appeared, on the Green. It had taken Désirée and Bimbo some time to catch Li, and they must have looked, she said, pretty silly, if there’d been anyone to see them. She fitted a cigarette into a holder. Her beautiful gloves were dirty.

“Where had you come from?”

“My dears, we’d been dining near Bornlee Green. A dim general and his wife; and pretty heavy weather, by and large, we made of it.”

“Rather late for a dinner party.”

“With bridge afterwards, darling.”

“I see. Tell me,” Alleyn said, “have you seen or heard anything of Pyke Period since I left Baynesholme this afternoon?”

“No,” said Bimbo, at once. “Why?”

Alleyn turned to Désirée, who raised her eyebrows at him. “And you?” he asked her.

“I ran in for a moment on our way to Bomlee Green. There was something I wanted to tell him. Bimbo waited in the car.”

“Was it something about the letter we discussed just before I left Baynesholme?”

“Actually, yes.” She gave him a half smile. “Sorry,” she said. “I changed my mind. I told him.”

“I don’t know what anybody’s talking about,” Connie grumbled. She looked anxiously at Moppett, who had got herself under control and, with Leonard, stayed at the far end of the room, avidly listening.

“You’re not alone in that, Auntie,” said Moppett.

Bimbo said, loudly: “Look here, I don’t know if anybody agrees with me, but I’m getting very bored with the turn this affair is taking. We’re being asked all sorts of personal questions without the smallest reason being given, and I don’t feel inclined to take much more of it.”

“Hear, hear,” said Leonard. Bimbo glanced at him with profound distaste.

“I fear, my darling,” Désirée said, “you will have to lump it. Our finer feelings are not of much account, I fancy.”

“All the same, I want to know. What’s this about P.P.? Why the hell shouldn’t you call in to see him? We might be living in a police state,” he blustered, looking sideways at Alleyn.

“Mr. Dodds,” Alleyn said, “any visit to Mr. Period during the last few hours is perfectly relevant, since, at about eleven o’clock this evening, somebody attempted to murder him.”