‘I’ll need a number of details, Lady Catherine. Your daughter’s name and address, information on everybody in this house.’

She was displeased. She grunted. Suddenly I wanted the case and the thousand, bad. I went on quickly. ‘I’ll need as many descriptions of Brain as I can gather, others may recall different details. By the way, does anyone other than you know about his claim to have had a son?’

‘No one.’

‘Not Miss Reid?’

‘Certainly not, I sent her away when I recognised Henry.’

‘Who else could have seen him then?’

‘I really couldn’t say. I have no staff now apart from Verna.’

She sounded like Bob Menzies lamenting the Empire.

‘Sir Clive had… expensive tastes and there is not a great deal of money left. But there are possibilities. The right man could revive our fortunes.’

It was sounding thinner, more fantastic. I felt less sure about my expenses but you have to give of your best.

‘Did you have any staff then — when Brain was here?’

She tilted her head back as if it took a physical effort to recall details of menials. ‘There may have been a chauffeur then. Yes, I think there was.’

‘Would you have some sort of record on him?’

‘Verna would. She should be back soon.’

She said it as if she hoped so; I wondered about their relationship. I also wondered about the Judge’s tastes. I asked for a description of Henry Brain.

He was a tall, thin man she said, but stooped over. His hair was grey and sparse and he was almost toothless. She said that the only sign that he had once been a gentleman was his hands — they were clean and well kept. His clothes sounded like cast-offs.

‘Did he tell you what he’d been doing in the past twenty-odd years?’