Charlie Carter cut him short. ‘Would you tell Mr Troop that we’re here? Police Superintendent Carter and Commander Sandilands.’

Before there could be a reply a booming voice was heard from the balcony above. ‘Charlie! An unexpected pleasure! And Commander Sandilands?’

Joe became aware of a large figure in a white suit, a purple cummerbund, a pair of black and white co-respondent shoes, a cigar burning in his hand.

‘Stay where you are – I’ll come down.’

As he descended the stairs he glanced out through a small window, observing the two silent policemen outside. ‘Not entirely a social call, I see? None the less welcome for all that. Come through to the office and we’ll have a small drink. Perhaps we’ll have a large drink?’

He spoke to the receptionist.

The office to which he led them might have been something out of the Arabian Nights Entertainment. A difficult room to sit in with dignity, they both found, since they were offered nothing more formal than divans and cushions. As they entered the room a further door opened and closed, admitting briefly the tinkle of Indian music from the back premises.

Almost before they had sat down, following a discreet knock on the door a bottle of champagne appeared on a tray with three glasses.

‘Now,’ said Edgar Troop, ‘I’d like to know the nature of this visit so I’m hoping you’re going to accept a drink.’ Troop turned confidentially to Joe. ‘I don’t know, Commander, how familiar you are with Indian ways – rather different here from Scotland Yard I dare say. It’s impossible to go anywhere, do anything or call on anybody without being offered a dish of sweets and this establishment, although European, is no exception.’

As he spoke the door opened and a slender figure in a pink sari entered, a silver tray in her hand. A second figure in a green sari followed. Both girls, Joe estimated, were in their late teens, both tinkled with cheap jewellery, but where one had the wheaten pallor of a Eurasian, the other was ebony black. They deposited the tray on a low table and in a pose of theatrical submission, hands folded, eyes downcast, they stood by the door for an embarrassing moment until Edgar Troop with a wide gesture of a large hairy hand waved them away. With repeated salaams they backed away through the door.

‘You’re sure,’ said Edgar Troop, ‘there’s nothing more with which I can provide you?’

He looked from one to the other, very much at ease, his eyes wreathed in smiles and said again, ‘Anything with which I can provide you?’

‘Information,’ said Carter coldly.

Troop looked genially from one to the other. ‘Ask your questions and if I can I’ll supply the answers.’

‘A simple question,’ said Carter. ‘What were you doing yesterday afternoon, let us say between noon and four o’clock in the afternoon?’

Troop appeared to relax. ‘Easy,’ he said. ‘I left here at about twelve and I had tiffin with Johnny Bristow and Jackie Carlisle. Bertie Hearn-Robinson was there too for a while. Oh, and Reggie Sharpe but he had to leave to go to Annandale.’

‘Where do your friends live?’

‘Well, I don’t suppose I have to tell the omniscient police but they – Johnny, Jackie and Bertie – share that large house on Mount Pleasant – the corner house, just past the Cecil Hotel. They’re living in a chummery.’

‘And they would be able to confirm this?’

‘Yes, of course they would.’

‘And you got there just after twelve?’

‘Say ten past.’

‘Was this a long-made arrangement?’

‘No. It wasn’t an arrangement at all. Just went round to see what they were all up to. Planning to have a game of snooker, to tell you the truth.’ And, turning to Joe, ‘Do you play snooker? Have you ever played snooker? It’s all the rage here. Billiard game, you know.’

‘I’ve heard of it,’ said Joe.

‘We should play sometime.’

‘So,’ said Charlie Carter, ‘you were planning to play snooker though you seem to suggest that you didn’t in fact do so?’

‘That’s quite true. When it came to the point, it was such a lovely day we thought we’d go for a drive. Jackie had got a new car and wanted to show it off to us so that’s what we did.’

‘Four of you?’

‘No, as I said, Bertie stayed for tiffin but then had to go and do something else. Working man, you know. Reggie was due up at Annandale to look over some nag on the racecourse so we drove him up there and dropped him off then Johnny and Jackie and I went on up into the hills as far as the road was decent. We took the Mashobra road.’

‘And when did you return?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. About three, I should say.’

‘And then what happened?’

Joe had listened to Carter’s level questions and sat in silence examining the room. The pictures on the wall were in the Mogul erotic tradition of centuries, that is to say bejewelled and moustachioed rajahs expressionlessly penetrated scantily silk-clad and large-eyed maidens whose thoughts, by some trick of the painting, seemed to be miles away. They seemed indifferent to the convolute and anatomically improbable positions in which they found themselves. There were though, Joe noted, some beautiful rugs on the floor, some good Tibetan cushions and a particularly fine brass hanging lamp. ‘Come through to my office,’ Edgar Troop had said. But whatever else this apartment might be it was no office.

Edgar Troop lounged amongst the cushions and Joe surveyed him. He was tall, nearly as tall as Joe himself, and must once have had brutish good looks. Mottled face and vinous nose hinted at the reason for his slide from peak physical perfection, Joe thought. His gaping shirt revealed a hairy chest, the top button of his trousers was undone and his braces strained over his shoulders like straps over a trunk.

Charlie Carter’s insistent questions flowed on. ‘And then what happened?’ he repeated.

Before replying, Edgar Troop refilled his glass. ‘Have another bottle, shall we?’ he asked, looking from Joe to Charlie and back again. Both shook their heads. ‘I get so dry,’ said Troop apologetically. ‘My doctor’s always telling me to keep up the fluids and I do my best. But you were asking…?’

‘What happened then?’

‘Well, Johnny and I settled down to our belated game of snooker while Jackie stayed to play with his car. We had three frames – if I thought a bit I might even be able to tell you the score. Johnny won the first two and I won the third. I think. That’s just about our average form. I think I got back here at about five o’clock.’

‘So during the afternoon from midday until about five there was no time when you were not in the presence of others?’

‘That’s right.’

‘And all will be prepared to bear you out?’

‘I see no reason why not. But now – I’ve been very patient. I’m not accustomed to being grilled in my own office and more or less in the presence of my staff. I think I’m entitled to ask what the hell is all this about? Presumably you’re investigating the death of the unfortunate Russkie? Now what on earth motive could I have? Just answer me that because I’m getting rather fed up with this.’

Charlie Carter ignored the question. ‘Tell me, Mr Troop,’ he said, ‘do you own a .303 rifle?’

The question seemed briefly to disconcert Edgar Troop but he rallied smoothly. ‘As a matter of fact I own two .303 rifles. One is a German sporting rifle and one a British Army Short Lee-Enfield, mark three.’

‘Would you lend them to us?’

‘Lend them? To you? Well, I suppose so,’ said Troop. ‘But I can’t imagine why you’d want to borrow them. I do hire out sporting equipment, you know, to tourists – would-be shikari. Be glad to hire them out to you for the afternoon. If you really want them.’

‘If we were truly investigating the death of Feodor Korsovsky,’ said Charlie placidly, ‘and if we were seriously wondering whether it could have been any concern of yours, the first thing I would do (and I have made arrangements to do so) would be to extract the bullet from wherever it lodged, fire a practice round from each of your muskets and forensically examine the bullet. It can be as useful as a fingerprint.’