Pitt concealed his irritation. “So why should this Egyptian woman shoot him, in or out of her house? I assume there was no question of his trying to break in?”

Talbot’s eyebrows shot up, wrinkling his forehead. “Why on earth should he do that?”

“I’ve no idea,” Pitt replied tersely. “Why should she be outside in the garden with a gun? None of it makes any sense!”

“Oh, yes it does!” Talbot retorted fiercely, sitting forward and putting his elbows on the desk. “He served with the army in Egypt. Alexandria, to be precise. Which is where she comes from. Who knows what goes on in the minds of women there? They’re not like white women, you know. But she’s definitely moved up a bit now. She’s the mistress of a cabinet minister, Member of Parliament for a Manchester constituency, where all the trouble is over cotton at the moment. She’s not got time for the likes of an ex-soldier who’s only on the bottom rung of the diplomatic ladder. I daresay he was less keen in taking no for an answer, and she didn’t want him interfering in her new affair and upsetting Mr. Ryerson with tales of her past.”

“Any evidence of that?” Pitt asked. He was angry, and he wanted to prove Talbot prejudiced and inaccurate, but he could not dislike him totally; in fact, he could not seriously dislike him at all. The man was faced with a task in which he could not satisfy his superiors and still keep any kind of honor. Neither would he keep the confidence of the men he commanded, and with whom he would have to work for months and years after this affair was over. What would Pitt have done in the same circumstances? He honestly did not know. He would have been angry as well, casting around for answers, his thoughts leaping ahead of facts.

“Of course there isn’t!” Talbot responded. “But I’ll lay you a pound to a penny that if Special Branch, or someone like them, doesn’t charge in and prevent me, I will have such evidence in a day or two. The crime’s only four hours old!”