“They are signs,” Alleyn replied, trying not to sound too patient, “that a man with my training learns to treat with extreme reserve. They are not evidence.”

“No, but taken in conjunction with the evidence, such as it is?”

“They can’t be disregarded, certainly.”

Fabian said fretfully: “But I want you to get a picture of Flossie in the round. I don’t want you to have only my idea of her, which, truth to tell, is of a maddeningly arrogant piece of efficiency, but Ursula’s idea of a wonder-woman, Douglas’ idea of a manageable and not unprofitable aunt, Terence’s idea of an exacting employer — all these. But I didn’t mean to give you an inkling. I wanted you to hear for yourself, to start cold.”

“You say you haven’t spoken of her for six months. How am I to break the spell?”

“Isn’t it part of your job,” Fabian asked impatiently, “to be a corkscrew?”

“Lord help us,” said Alleyn good-humouredly, “I suppose it is.”

“Well then!” cried Fabian triumphantly. “Here’s a fair field with me to back you up. And, you know, I don’t believe it’s going to be so difficult. I believe they must be in much the same case as I am. It took a Herculean effort to write that letter. If I could have grabbed it back, I would have done so. I can’t tell you how much I funked the idea of starting this conversation, but, you see, now I have started there’s no holding me.”

“Have you warned them about this visitation?”

“I talked grandly about ‘an expert from a special branch.’ I said you were a high-up who’d been lent to this country. They know your visit is official and that the police and hush-hush birds have a hand in it. Honestly, I don’t think that alarms them much. At first, I suppose, each of us was afraid — personally afraid, I mean, afraid that we should be suspected.