“Do you think that he could possibly have left the letter in the case, or that it could have dropped out of his pocket?”

“I simply cannot believe that if he kept it at all it would be anywhere but in his wallet. And I was given the wallet. It was in the breast pocket of his coat. You see, Roderick, it’s not as if I didn’t try to trace the letter. I was desperately anxious to see the message from Anthony Banks. I asked again and again if anything could have been overlooked at the hospital and endless enquiries were made.”

She stopped for a moment and looked steadily at Alleyn.

“You can see now,” she said, “why I would go almost to any length to keep this from Bridget.”

“Yes,” said Alleyn, “I can see.”

Alleyn saw Bridget in her old nursery which had been converted into a very human sitting-room. She made him take a large armchair and jiggled a box of cigarettes under his nose.

“It’s no good being official and pretending you don’t. I can see you do.”

“Really!” exclaimed Alleyn with a look at his fingers which were not stained with nicotine. “How?”

“The outline of your case shows through your coat. You should take up detection, Mr Alleyn, it’s too interesting.”

Alleyn took a cigarette.

“Got me there,” he said. “Have you yourself any ideas about being a policewoman?” He fingered the outline that showed through his breast-pocket.

“I suppose one has to begin at the bottom,” said Bridget. “What’s the first duty of a policewoman?”

“I don’t know. We are not allowed to hang around the girls in the force.”

“What a shame!” said Bridget. “I won’t join. I should like you to hang round me, Mr Alleyn.”

Alleyn thought: “She’s being just a bit too deliberately the audacious young charmer. What’s up with her? Young Donald, damn his eyes!”

He said: “Well, so I must for the moment. I want to talk to you about last night, if I may.”

“I’m afraid I won’t be much good,” said Bridget. “I hope you find whoever it was. It’s worrying Donna to death, and Bart’s being absolutely lethal over it. Bart’s my stepfather. You’ve met him, haven’t you? All pukka sahib and horsewhips. Is a horsewhip any worse than an ordinary one, do you know?”

“You knew Lord Robert pretty well, didn’t you?” asked Alleyn.

“Yes. He was a great friend of Donna’s. I suppose you think I’m being hard and modern about him. I’d have been sorrier if it had happened longer ago.”

“That’s rather cryptic,” said Alleyn. “What does it mean?”

“It doesn’t mean I’m not sorry now. I am. We all loved him and I mind most dreadfully. But I found out I didn’t really know him well. He was harder than you’d ever believe. In a way that makes it worse; having been out of friends with him. I feel I’d give anything to be able to tell him I–I — I–I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“For not being nice to him last night. I snubbed him.”

“Why did you snub poor Bunchy?”

“Because he was beastly to his nephew who happens to be rather a particular friend of mine.”

“Donald Potter? Yes, I know about that. Don’t you think it’s possible that Donald was rather hard on his uncle?”

“No, I don’t. Donald’s a man now. He’s got to stand on his own feet and decide things for himself. Bunchy simply wouldn’t understand that. He wanted to choose Donald’s friends, settle his career, and treat him exactly as if he was a schoolboy. Bunchy was just hopelessly Victorian and conventional.”

“Do you like Captain Withers?” asked Alleyn suddenly.

“What?” Bridget became rather pink. “I can’t say he’s exactly my cup of tea. I suppose he is rather ghastly in a way, but he’s a marvellous dancer and he can be quite fun. I can forgive anybody almost anything if they’re amusing, can’t you?”

“What sort of amusement does Captain Withers provide?”

“Well, I mean he’s gay. Not exactly gay but he goes everywhere and everybody knows him, so he’s always quite good value. Donald says Wits is a terribly good business man. He’s been frightfully nice about advising Donald and he knows all sorts of people who could be useful.”

“Useful in what way? Donald is going in for medicine, isn’t he?”

“Well—” Bridget hesitated. ”Yes. That was the original idea, but Wits rather advises him not to. Donald says there’s not much in medicine nowadays and, anyway, a doctor is rather a dreary sort of thing to be.”

“Is he?” asked Alleyn. “You mean not very smart?”

“No, of course I don’t mean that,” said Bridget. She glared at Alleyn. “You are a pig,” she said. “I suppose I do. I hate drab, worthy sort of things and, anyway, it’s got nothing to with the case.”

“I should like to know what career Captain Withers has suggested for Donald.”

“There’s nothing definite yet. They’ve thought of starting a new night club. Wits has got wonderfully original ideas.”

“Yes,” agreed Alleyn. “I can quite imagine it. He’s doing quite well with the place at Leatherhead, isn’t he? Why doesn’t he take Donald in there?”

Bridget looked surprised.

“How did you know about that?” she asked.

“You must never say that to policemen,” said Alleyn. “It steals their thunder. As a matter of fact, I have been talking to Withers and the Leatherhead venture cropped up.”

“Well, I dare say you know more about it than I do,” said Bridget. “Donald says it’s just a small men’s club. More for fun than to make money. They play bridge and things. I don’t think there’s any opening there.”

“Have you spoken to Donald since his uncle died?”

Bridget clenched her hands and thumped them angrily on her knees.

“Of course, he rang me up. I’d just got to the telephone when Bart came in looking like a beastly old Cochin China rooster and took the receiver from me. I could have killed him, he was so infuriating! He was all sort of patient and old-world. He sympathized with Donald and then he said: ‘If you don’t mind old fellow speaking frankly, I think it would be better if you didn’t communicate with my stepdaughter for the time being!’ I said: ‘No! Give it to me,’ but he simply turned his back on me and went on: ‘You understand. I’m afraid I must forbid it,’ and put the receiver down. I stormed at him but we were in Donna’s room and she was so upset I had to give in and promise I wouldn’t write or anything. It’s so beastly, beastly unfair. And it’s all because Bart’s such a filthy old snob and is afraid of all the reporters and scandal and everything. Horrid bogus old man. And he’s absolutely filthy to darling Donna. How she ever married him! After daddy, who must have been so gay, and charming, and who loved her so much. How she could! And if Bart thinks I’m going to give Donald up he’s jolly well got another think coming.”

“Are you engaged?”

“No. We’re waiting till Donald begins to earn.”

“And how much must Donald earn before he is marriageable?”

“You don’t put it very nicely, do you? I suppose you think I’m hard and modern and beastly. I dare say I am, but I can’t bear the idea of everything getting squalid and drab because we have to worry about money. A horrid little flat, second-rate restaurants, whitewood furniture painted to look fresh and nice. Ugh! I’ve seen these sorts of marriages,” said Bridget looking worldly-wise, “and I know.”

“Donald is his uncle’s heir, you know.”

Bridget was on her feet, her eyes flashing.

“Don’t you dare,” she said, “don’t you dare to say that because Donald gets the money he had anything to do with this. Don’t you dare.”

“And don’t you go putting ideas into people’s heads by getting on the defensive before you’ve been given cause,” said Alleyn very firmly indeed. He put his hand inside his breast-pocket. The slight bulge disappeared and out came Alleyn’s notebook. In the midst of her fury Bridget’s glance fell on it. She looked from the notebook to Alleyn. He raised one eyebrow and screwed his face into an apologetic grimace.