‘I can believe it,’ said Joe simply. ‘I have known such a woman.’

Alice looked at him silently for a moment with speculation.

Before she could question him he asked, ‘And Reggie? How did he react to the strictures you imposed?’

‘Badly. It was very embarrassing for him on two counts – bossy wife who didn’t know her place and then, you know, naughty boy caught with his hand up a housemaid’s skirt!’ She laughed shortly and went on, ‘Don’t think he’s ever forgiven me. Showed him up in front of his gang! I don’t care! I made him use his influence with the madam and with Troop to have the girls medically examined and those suffering were to be sent to the hospital immediately for treatment. From then on regular checks were to be made and reports made to the hospital on a monthly basis.’ She gave a tight smile and added, ‘They think I’m a meddling nuisance but – too bad!’

Joe was stunned by what he was hearing. ‘Did you confront this Madame Flora?’

Joe would have been entertained to witness such an interview. Alice put an end to his speculation by saying, ‘I have never met the woman. She never appears in society, as my mother would have said. Her world and mine would never coincide were it not for the unfortunate Reggie. And I would never seek her out.’

‘I understand you have some personal contact with the hospital?’

‘I work there one day a week on the women’s ward. I interest myself in the women whose bodies have been ravaged by poor care – or no care – in childbirth, in the child brides who, after years of abuse by their husbands, are sent as a last resort to us for repair. And I raise money and I fund the care of the unfortunate creatures who risk their lives working for people such as Troop and Flora. I talk to the patients and I have managed to learn something of the way Troop operates though the girls are generally too frightened to speak to anyone outside the establishment.’

Her blue eyes blazed with indignation and rage. Joe was fast forming the opinion that Alice Sharpe was a formidable woman, a woman who must have made some implacable enemies in Simla and not least, perhaps, her own husband.

‘And Reggie accepts all this?’

‘He has no choice in the matter. I control the finances of ICTC. I effectively pay him a salary and I have threatened to cut it drastically if he steps out of line. To show him that I was in earnest I cut two months of his pay and gave it directly to the women’s hospital. He was angry but there was little he could do about it. But I may have pushed him too far. He’s a weak man and I despise him but even weak men may seek help from stronger men. I fear Reggie may have used the services of Edgar Troop to shoot my brother in order to protect his share of the company.’

And Alice Conyers’ share also, incidentally, Joe thought.

Alice glared at him, resenting his silence. ‘You don’t believe me, do you?’

‘Why do you say so?’ said Joe in surprise.

‘You were looking at me with the supercilious, suspicious, sceptical, cynical air that men assume so easily. Even nice men,’ she added with an irritation she did not quite disguise with a spurt of humour.

‘You are deceived,’ said Joe. ‘Many are deceived by this badly stitched eyebrow.’ He raised his hand to his left eyebrow which hasty and belated surgery on the battlefield had left permanently tilted. ‘In the interview room, I can tell you it has its uses but it can work against me when I’m trying to charm and impress.’

‘Were you trying to charm and impress? But a wound! Of course, I see it now.’ She raised a hand and for a heart-stopping moment Joe thought she was about to touch with gentle fingers the scar on his face but she hesitated, looked away and turned her hand to her own cheek. ‘I too…’ She traced the silvery scar trail down her face. ‘But I was fortunate. I had the services of the best surgeon in the south of France.’

‘Whereas my face was held together with a clothes peg,’ said Joe, feeling, for the first time, that he was in tune with Alice Conyers. Wishing to hold on to this fragile rapport he said, ‘It must have felt like surviving on a battlefield, surviving the rail crash.’

‘Perhaps worse,’ she said, ‘because we were so totally unprepared for it and we were not young fighting men prepared to make a sacrifice of our lives. We were ordinary people looking forward to the south of France, to spring, to sunshine, to the rest of our lives.

‘But you’re right – it was like a battlefield. The blood, the severed limbs, the bodies lying like rag dolls. I was unconscious at first. I don’t know for how long. When I came to and looked around all I could see was destruction and death. I’d never seen a dead body before and suddenly there I was surrounded by dozens of them. The smoke and stench of burning flesh was thick about me but even worse was the silence. And suddenly I heard a child crying. It went on and on. I tried to get up but I couldn’t get my limbs to work. That was an awful moment. Mr Sandilands, I thought I was dead! I thought I was a ghost in some sort of dreadful limbo. My spirit was still there at this scene of desolation, anchored by a thread of consciousness. I’ve always believed in the survival of the soul and I had no doubt that I had died and was caught up between two worlds. Blackness descended again and when I woke up the child had stopped crying. I don’t know how long I was lying there unconscious and bleeding… they say it was over an hour before the rescue train arrived.

‘I was unaware of it because the next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital in Beaune with the kindly face of Marie-Jeanne Pitiot smiling at me.’

Joe sensed that she had said enough about the past but felt flattered that she had entrusted him with her sad story.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I really wasn’t trying to put you off your questioning. We’re both trying to discover the truth. I need to know who killed my brother. I desperately need to know. Do go on with your questions.’

‘It might be important to know how the company stands at the moment. I mean, did Lionel leave a will? Or have the lawyers reverted to the situation as it was before he died? Who really owns the company?’

‘I wish I knew! The matter is still under consideration by the firm’s lawyers in London. One opinion is that as he died intestate and without progeniture all reverts to his only living relation – me. Others maintain that grandfather’s wishes and provisions come into play and that the status quo obtains. I think that Reggie would remain quite content with the latter scenario but…’

‘Should you be declared the sole heir, then…?’

She looked at him seriously for a moment. ‘Then I would think I was at risk. Don’t you think so too, Mr Sandilands?’

Soft-footed, Rheza Khan re-entered the room and stood by the door, appointment book in hand, formally signalling that the interview was at an end. Joe rose to his feet and thanked Alice Sharpe for her co-operation, the professional courtesies rolling easily from his tongue. She held out a hand and took his, looking earnestly into his face.

‘I’m so glad you’re here in Simla, Commander. And please let me know if there is anything at all I can do to further your enquiries into this wretched business.’

The Indian stood his ground by the door post watching Joe with eyes as dark and unyielding as obsidian. As Joe passed him he caught again the fragrance of sandalwood but much stronger than the delicate ghost of a scent that he had breathed from Alice Sharpe.

‘Hmm,’ thought Joe. ‘So that’s how it is between them!’

Joe decided to start out on foot to walk down the Mall looking out for the dress shop run by the nurse and companion Marie-Jeanne Pitiot. He was half-way along the Mall when an uncomfortable thought struck him. He patted his pockets. No, he was not mistaken. Alice Sharpe had failed to hand back Korsovsky’s programme. And he hadn’t even noticed the sleight of hand by which she had concealed it. He hesitated, wondering whether to go back for it. He decided to leave it for the moment. It might come in useful later on if he needed an excuse to interview Alice again.