In general conversation this would be a peculiar question, but Mr. Berry heard it a dozen times a day. “What are you eating?”

“Probably beef.”

“You have two cases of the Cheval Blanc ’62 laid down, sir,” he said.

Lenox frowned again. “Does Graham know?”

Graham knew everything about wine.

“Yes, sir. I believe you purchased it under his advisement.”

“And I like it?”

“Yes, sir,” said Mr. Berry. “You took two bottles of it to a dinner party in March. You said it was”-he consulted the ledger-“tasty, sir.” This word repeated with faint disapproval.

“Well, better give me three bottles.”

“Straightaway, sir.”

This business soon transacted, Lenox and Mr. Berry spent a quarter of an hour discussing Scotch whisky, and before he left Lenox had tasted several samples and was feeling distinctly warm in his belly. He left with a bottle of the darkest sample he had tried, Talisker.

Lenox returned to Lady Jane’s to find her ready and was enjoying a quick sip of the Talisker when there was a knock on the door.

It was Graham. Because Lenox and Lady Jane lived in houses that adjoined, their servants often popped back and forth to deliver messages.

“You have a visitor, sir,” said Graham.

“Damn. Who is it?”

“Inspector Exeter.”

“Oh, yes? Well, Jane, do I have time to see him?”

She looked over at the silver clock that stood on her desk. “Yes, if you like,” she said. “I’ll order my carriage. That should take a quarter of an hour.”

“I’ll be faster than that, I hope.”

Exeter was waiting in Lenox’s study. He was a large, physically imposing man, who-to give him his credit-had evinced time and again tremendous physical bravery. Cowardice was never his flaw. Rather, it was that he was so hidebound and resistant to new ideas. He had a stubborn face, adorned somewhat absurdly with a fat black mustache. He was twisting the ends of this with two fingers when Lenox came in.