'We should have waited,' said Pascoe smugly.

'Nonsense. If they got so pie-eyed last night that they can't hear us knocking, they weren't to be ready for nine-thirty either.'

The professional part of his mind felt there was some flaw either of logic or syntax in this statement, but this week-end he was very firmly and very consciously off duty. So he grinned and stepped back from the doorway, craning his neck to spot any signs of activity behind the bedroom curtains.

It was a lovely cottage, just stopping this side of biscuit-tin sentimentality. Tudor, he told himself, half-timbered, doubtless full of wattle-and-daub whatever that was (those were?). A not very successful attempt had been made to train a rambling rose around the doorway. Above the thatched roof a flock of television aerials parted the morning breeze and serenely sang their triumph over charm and Tudory.

'Colin's quite ruthless,' said Ellie, following his gaze. 'If you modernize, modernize. He doesn’t see any virtue in pretending that a pair of farm-labourers' cottages was once a desirable sixteenth-century residence.'

'Nor in keeping farming hours, it seems,' said Pascoe, banging once more on the door and rattling the worn brass handle.

'Though perhaps,' he added thoughtfully, 'they do preserve some old country customs, such as never locking your door.'

He pressed the door-handle right down and pushed. The hinges creaked most satisfactorily as the heavy oak door slowly swung open.

Now it was Ellie's turn to show reluctance.

'We can't just appear at the foot of the bed,' she protested, hanging back.

'Well I'm not going to go and get a warrant,' answered Pascoe. 'At least we can find the wherewithal to make coffee and a lot of noise. Come on!'

The front door opened directly into a nicely proportioned lounge, with furnishings which, though comfortable looking, were antiquated rather than antique. Two or three whisky tumblers stood on a low table in the middle of the room; they were still half full. An empty bottle of Teacher's stood beside them. A Churchillian cigar had been allowed to burn out in a large cut-glass ashtray. Ellie sniffed the air distastefully.