They crinkled now. He said in a laughing voice, ‘Stock situation from a farce! The chaperone is asleep. What do we do about it?’

Her heart gave a little jerk. Her lips trembled into a smile. She said ‘Ssh!’

Garth laughed again.

‘Oh, no – I don’t think so. My stage direction says, “Crosses R.” ’ Getting up as he spoke, he came round the sofa and sat down on the arm of her chair. ‘You needn’t worry, you know – she won’t wake. Family trait – once I’m off, I’m off – it takes a bomb to wake me.’

‘But you’re not any relation – she’s a step. You can’t inherit something from your grandfather’s step-daughter.’

His arm stretched lazily across the back of the chair behind her shoulders.

‘I didn’t say it was inherited. There are such things as acquired characteristics. Anyhow the point is, she’s good for at least half an hour, and – wilful waste makes woeful want. I suppose you wouldn’t like to be kissed?’

He saw the colour leap like a flame in either cheek and flicker out. When she slowly turned her head and looked at him she was so pale that he was startled. She moved colourless lips to say ‘Yes.’ Instead he put his hand upon her shoulder.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘Nothing.’

He gave her a little shake.

‘My child, this was a farce. You’re playing tragedy – “Unhand me villain – I have taken poison”. What’s the matter?’

‘I’m not very good at farce.’

He looked at her with laughing eyes.

‘I’m not at all set on it myself. Let’s make it drawing-room comedy – the great proposal scene. I come of rich but honest parents. I know all about you, and you know more than any other girl does about me. Life’s highly uncertain for both of us. As someone once wrote, “Gather ye roses while ye may”. What about it?’

Her lips were stiff. She forced them to a smile.

‘I don’t know my part, Garth.’

His hand came up on the far side, taking her by the elbow, turning her a little.

‘There’s always the prompter. If it’s a very modern play, you say casually, “All right, I don’t mind if I do.” But if it’s one of those romantic period pieces, it would be, “Oh, Garth – this is so sudden!” ’

She managed to go on smiling.

‘It is rather, isn’t it?’

‘I suppose it is. It’s funny the way things are. I’ve always been fond of you. You were such an odd little thing – I was very fond of you. And then I went away and forgot all about you, but when I saw you come in at the inquest I felt just as if I hadn’t ever been away at all. It’s difficult to explain, but it felt good – it felt quite extraordinarily good. I – Jan, I’m really trying to tell you something.’

‘Yes-’

‘It’s just as if you were part of me – part of the boy I was. You can’t ever get away from what you’ve been, and you really are a part of that. I found that out when I came back, and now I keep finding out that you’re still a part of me. It goes deep down as far as I can get. If it’s been like that and it’s like that now, don’t you think it’s good enough to suppose it will go on being like that? You know, when you said you didn’t want me to make love to you because you’d rather keep something that was real, you made me think. And what I thought was this – why, we’ve got the real stuff – it’s there – we can’t get away from it – it’s as solid as wedding cake, but what’s the matter with having the almond paste and the sugar icing too?’

This time she didn’t speak. The no-coloured eyes were very bright and rather scared. His arm came round her neck, the hand under her chin tipping it up.

‘Hate me?’

‘Not dreadfully.’

‘That’s something. Like me?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘Impassioned creature! Love me a little?’

‘No.’

‘Sure?’

The scared look went out of her eyes. A sparkle made them brighter than before.

‘You haven’t said you love me. Do you?’

‘Quite a lot, Jan.’

She repeated the words gravely – ‘Quite a lot.’

It was at this moment that Miss Sophy opened a round blue eye. It rested hazily upon the agreeable spectacle of two young people embracing one another, and closed again. Miss Sophy was no spoilsport. It was only when the subsequent soft murmurings became so articulate as to make her feel she was eavesdropping that she most regretfully stirred, rustled her cushions, yawned with emphasis, and sat up. The embrace, alas, was over. Dear Janice had a very becoming colour. Dear Garth was also somewhat flushed. She beamed upon them.

‘My dears – how nice!’

Garth had the hardihood to enquire, ‘What, Aunt Sophy?’

Miss Sophy patted her curls.

‘I believe I have had quite a nap,’ she said, and beamed again. ‘Very pleasant – very pleasant indeed. I had a most agreeable dream – if it were a dream.’

Before she could receive any reply the door was opened. Chief Detective Inspector Lamb appeared – a solid presence, but with an air of haste.

‘Beg pardon, Miss Fell.’ He came in and shut the door behind him. ‘I suppose, between you, there isn’t much you don’t know about this village. Can you tell me who keeps brandy in the house?’

‘Brandy?’ said Miss Sophy in a surprised voice. “I think we have some.’

Lamb looked past her.

Janice said quickly, ‘Mrs Bush – her aunt has spasms. She lives with them – she’s bed-ridden. They always have brandy in case-’

‘Is anyone ill?’ said Miss Sophy in a bewildered voice.

Lamb gave a kind of snort. He had an exasperated air. He said testily, ‘He isn’t ill, he’s dead!’ and went out of the room and shut the door. You couldn’t say that he banged it, but he certainly shut it a little more loudly than he need have done.

Miss Sophy opened her eyes as far as they would go.

‘Why did he want the brandy?’ she enquired.

FREDERICK BUSH STOOD looking down from his spare height upon the two London police officers who had summoned him to this interview. Invited to take a seat he did so, retaining an upright carriage and his habitual air of dignified melancholy. He had removed his cap, and held it now in the hand which rested upon his right knee.

Lamb looked shrewdly at him and said, ‘Thank you for coming here, Mr Bush. We are checking up on the events of Tuesday night, and I think perhaps you can help us.’ He reached across the table with a paper in his hand. ‘This is a transcript of the evidence you gave at the inquest. Will you look it through and tell me if you agree that it is correct.’

Bush took the paper and laid it upon his left knee. He then put down his cap upon the floor, produced a leather spectacle-case from an inside pocket, opened it, and put on the spectacles, all in a very deliberate manner. After which he picked up the paper, read it through without haste, and laid it back upon the table.

Lamb watched him.

‘You find that correct?’

Bush was putting away his glasses. When the case was back in his pocket, he said, ‘Yes.’

Sergeant Abbott, writing down that single word, made the mental comment that the interview bore a certain resemblance to a slow-motion picture. Shorthand, he considered, was going to be thrown away on Mr Bush.

Lamb was speaking.

‘Have you anything to add to that statement?’

Bush said, ‘No.’ He took his time over saying it.

‘You’re sure about that?’

‘Yes.’

‘Mr Bush – it is your habit, is it not, to make the round of the church and churchyard every night?’

With no more hurry and no more hesitation than before, Bush again said, ‘Yes.’

‘At what hour?’

Frank Abbott thought, ‘I’ll get something that isn’t a yes this time anyhow. I’m about tired of writing it.’

The answer came as the others had come, and without change of voice. ‘Ten o’clock.’

‘You made this round on Tuesday night?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then why didn’t you say so at the inquest?’