Lady Carrados said, “I suppose Herbert didn’t want you to see me?”

“He wasn’t very pleased with the idea. He thought you were too tired and distressed.”

She smiled faintly: “Yes,” she said, and it was impossible to be sure that she spoke ironically. ”Yes, he is very thoughtful. What do you want to ask me, Roderick?”

“All sorts of dreary questions, I’m afraid. I’m sorry about it. I know you were one of Bunchy’s friends.”

“So were you.”

“Yes.”

“What is your first question?”

Alleyn went over the final scene in the hall and found she had nothing new to tell him. She answered him quickly and concisely. He could see that his questions held no particular significance for her and that her thoughts were lying in wait, anxiously, for what was yet to come. As soon as he began to speak of the green room on the top landing he knew that he touched her more nearly. He felt a profound distaste for his task. He went on steadily, without emphasis.

“The green sitting-room with the telephone. We know that he used the telephone and are anxious to find out if he was overheard. Someone says you left your bag there, Evelyn. Did you?”

“Yes.”

“Dimitri returned it to you?”

“Yes.”

“When was this?”

“Soon after I had come up from supper — about half-past twelve or a quarter to one.”

“Not as late as one o’clock?”

“No.”

“Why are you so certain of this, please?”

“Because,” said Lady Carrados, “I was watching the time rather carefully.”

“Were you? Does the peak of a successful ball come at a specific moment?”

“Well, one rather watches the time. If they don’t begin to drift away after supper it looks as if it will be a success.”

“Where were you when Dimitri returned your bag?”

“In the ballroom.”

“Did you notice Bunchy at about this time?”

“I — don’t think — I remember.”

The hands were pressed closer together as if she held her secret between them; as if it might escape. Her lips were quite white.

The door opened and Bridget came in. She looked as if she had been crying.

“Oh, Donna,” she said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know—”

“This is my girl, Roderick. Bridget, this is Sarah’s uncle.”

“How do you do,” said Bridget. “The detective one?”

“The detective one.”

“Sarah says you’re quite human really.”

“That’s very kind of Sarah,” said her uncle drily.

“I hope you’re not heckling my mother,” said Bridget, sitting on the arm of the chair. She had an air of determined sprightliness.

“I’m trying not to. Perhaps you could help us both. We are talking about last night.”

“Well, I might be able to tell you something frightfully important without knowing it myself, sort of, mightn’t I?”

“It’s happened before now,” said Alleyn with a smile. “We were talking about your mother’s bag.”

“The one she left upstairs and that I found?”

“Bridgie!” whispered Lady Carrados. “Oh, Bridgie!”

“It’s all right, Donna, my sweet. That had nothing to do with Bunchy. Oh — he was there, wasn’t he? In the supper-room when I brought it to you?”

Bridget, perched on the arm of the wing chair, could not see her mother’s face and Alleyn thought: “Now we’re in for it.”

He said: “You returned the bag in the supper-room, did you?”

Lady Carrados suddenly leant back and closed her eyes.

“Yes,” Bridget said, “and it was simply squashed full of money. But why the bag? Does it fit somewhere frightfully subtle? I mean was the motive really money and did the murderer think Donna gave Bunchy the money, sort of? Or something?”

Lady Carrados said: “Bridgie, darling. I’m by way of talking privately to Mr Alleyn.”

“Oh, are you, darling? I’m sorry. I’ll whizz off. Shall I see you again before you go, Mr Alleyn?”

“Please, Miss Bridget.”

“Well, come along to the old nursery. I’ll be there.”

Bridget looked round the corner of the chair at her mother, who actually managed to give her a smile. She went out and Lady Carrados covered her face with her hands.

“Don’t try to tell me, Evelyn,” said Alleyn gently. “I’ll see if I can tell you. Come now, it may not be so dreadful, after all. Listen. Someone has been blackmailing you. You have had letters written in script on Woolworth paper. One of them came on the morning Bunchy brought you spring flowers. You put it under your pillow. Last night you left your bag in the green room, because you had been told to leave it there. It contained the money the blackmailer demanded. It now appears that Bridget returned your bag, still full of notes, while you were in the supper-room with Bunchy. Did you replace it in the green sitting-room? You did… and later it was returned to you, empty — while you were in the ballroom?”

“But — you know all this! Roderick, do you also know what they have found out?”

“No. I have no idea what they found out. Had Bunchy?”

“That is what horrifies me. Bunchy knew, at least, that I was being persecuted. When Bridgie brought back that hideous bag last night I nearly collapsed. I can’t tell you what a shock it was to me. You are quite right, a letter, like the one you described, came a few days ago. There had been others. I didn’t answer them. I destroyed them all and tried to put them out of my mind. I thought perhaps they wouldn’t go on with it if I paid no attention. But this one threatened dreadful things, things that would hurt Bridgie so much — so much. It said that if I didn’t do as I was ordered Herbert and Bridgie would be told about — everything. I couldn’t face that. I did what they said. I put five hundred pounds in green notes in the bag and left it on the little table in the green sitting-room before one o’clock. And then Bridgie must have seen it. I shall never forget her coming into the supper-room, laughing and holding out that bag. I suppose I must have looked frightful. It’s all muddled in my mind now, like the memory of a terrible dream. Somehow we got rid of Bridgie. Bunchy must have been splendid. Sir Daniel Davidson was there. I’ve been to see him lately about my health and he had said something to me before that evening. I got rid of him, too, and then Bunchy and I went out into the hall and Bunchy said he knew what I wanted to do with my bag and begged me not to do it. I was frantic. I broke away from him and went back again to the green sitting-room. Nobody was there. I put the bag back on the table. It was then twenty to one. I put it behind a big ormolu and enamel box on the table. Then I went down to the ballroom. I don’t know how much later it was when I saw Dimitri coming through the room with the bag. At first I thought the same thing had happened again, but when I took it in my hand I knew the money had gone. Dimitri had found the bag, he said, and recognized it as mine. That’s all.”

“That’s all,” repeated Alleyn. “It’s a good deal. Look here, Evelyn, I’m going to ask you point-blank, is it possible that Dimitri is the man who is blackmailing you?”

“Dimitri?” Her eyes opened wide. “Good heavens, no! No, no, it’s out of the question. He couldn’t possibly have any idea, any means of knowing. Not possibly.”

“Are you sure of that? He is in and out of people’s houses and has free access to their rooms. He has opportunities of overhearing conversations, of watching people when they are off their guard.”

“How long has he been doing this work?”

“He told me seven years.”

“My secret is more than twice as old as that. ‘Lady Audley’s Secret’! But it’s not so amusing, Roderick, when you carry it about with you. And yet, do you know, there have been times when I have almost forgotten my secret. It all happened so very long ago. The years have sifted past and mounted like sand into smooth unremarkable shapes and they have gradually hidden the old times. I thought I should never be able to speak of this to anyone in the world, but, oddly enough, it is rather a relief to talk about it.”