“Maybe. Any political angle?”

“I shouldn’t think so, we’re not at all politically-minded, Susan and I.”

Of course not, with their money you don’t have to be. You win with heads and you win with tails, one way or another. But it would be easy enough to check whether or not Susan’s actions had offended some part of the lunatic fringe.

“I have to know more about your sister, obviously,” I said, “I’ll have to talk to her. Where is she now?”

“She’s in a clinic at Longueville. I suppose I could arrange for you to see her if you think it’s essential.”

“I do. She took all this so badly that she had to go into a clinic?”

“Partly this business,” he said slowly. “Partly that, but there are other things involved. My sister is a diabetic and as I said she keeps very busy. She neglects her diet and regimen and her health suffers. She spends a week or so in Dr Brave’s clinic a few times a year to recover her balance.”

I nodded. I was thinking that my mother was a diabetic and she often went off the rails, but she didn’t go into clinics, just ate apples and drank milk instead of beer for a while. But then, she died at forty-five. Money helps. “A diabetic clinic doesn’t sound too formidable,” I said. “No reason why I shouldn’t see her if they had some notice.”

He looked uneasy. “Dr Brave’s clinic isn’t exclusively for diabetics. It’s for people who need care in different ways. Some of them need mental care. I’m not wholly in favour of the place but Susan won’t hear a word against the doctor. She always seems rested and secure when she comes out so I go along with it.”

He didn’t like going along with anything that wasn’t his idea, but his sister was his weak spot apparently. She was responsible for my being here talking to him and he didn’t altogether like it. He seemed anxious for our talk to end.

“I’ll give you the address of the clinic and telephone to let them know you’re coming. When will I say?”