“Of course you must go.”

Miss Lucy sniffed.

“To stay here and keep on meeting Ross in the lift and on the stairs-I feel I really can’t! I feel as if I should do something before, and it’s so very uncomfortable. It’s not just because he wants to turn me out. There’s Mavis-she’s so young-and there are reasons-” Miss Lucy became very much agitated. “I have got quite a desperate feeling-I have indeed. And Peter says it would be better for me to go away.”

“Much better,” said Lee firmly. “And look here, darling, let’s get down to brass tacks. Can I have Cousin Mary’s flat?”

Miss Lucy’s agitation became less tearful. She said in a flustered voice,

“Oh, no, dear, you can’t-Peter’s there.”

“Peter? Living there?”

“Yes, dear. He is the executor. He is going through all the papers. Dear Mary never destroyed anything. There are boxes and boxes and boxes of them.”

“Bother! Then that’s a wash-out. Well, what about your flat? That’s a bright thought, isn’t it? I’ll keep it aired and warm and beautifully clean, and I won’t let Ross so much as cross the threshold. If he tries anything on whilst you’re away, there’ll be murder done. I can’t say fairer than that-can I?”

“My dear-”

“Now, darling, step on it, or you won’t catch that train! Listen! I’ll be at the barrier. Is it the Folkestone train-the seven-thirty-three? It is? All right, I’ll be there. You can bring the keys along and press them into my hand. And you’d better just murmur to Rush that I’m moving in. You needn’t bother about Peter-I’ll break the news myself.”

Miss Lucy was heard to draw a breath that was almost a gasp.

“Oh, Lee-I don’t know if you ought-if I ought-so many people away, and no one on this floor except Ross and Peter-”

“Darling, I’ve never had a chaperon in my life. Now hurry, hurry, hurry! And don’t forget the keys!”