I could tell from his face that he was deeply alarmed, as if he knew something that stopped him concentrating on anything else.

“We could try the door,” I said. “I don’t think they lock it during the day.”

Seldom turned the handle and the door opened quietly. We entered without a word, the wooden floorboards creaking beneath our steps. Inside we could hear, like a muffled heartbeat, the stealthy to and fro of a clock’s pendulum. We went through to the sitting room and stopped by the table in the centre. I pointed to the chaise longue by the window looking on to the garden. Mrs Eagleton was lying there, apparently sleeping deeply, her face turned towards the back of the chair. One of her pillows was on the floor, as if it had slipped while she slept. Her bun of white hair was carefully protected by a hairnet and her glasses lay on the little table, beside the Scrabble board. It looked as if she had been playing on her own because the letter racks were both on her side.

Seldom went over to her. As he touched her lightly on the shoulder her head fell heavily to one side. Just then we saw her terrified open eyes and two parallel trails of blood running from her nose to her chin, joining on her neck. Involuntarily I took a step back and had to stop myself from crying out. Seldom, who was supporting her head with his arm, rearranged the body as best he could and muttered something anxiously that I didn’t catch. He picked up the pillow, uncovering a big red stain on the carpet that was almost dry in the centre. He stood for a moment with his arm down by his side, holding the pillow, deep in thought, as if exploring the ramifications of a complex calculation. He looked truly perturbed. I said I thought we ought to call the police and he agreed mechanically.

Three

They said we should wait outside,” said Seldom laconically when he hung up.

We went out to the little porch, making sure not to touch anything. Seldom leaned against the handrail and rolled a cigarette. His hands paused from time to time as he folded the cigarette paper, then compulsively repeated an action, as if they were following the stops and starts of a train of thought that he had to check carefully. He no longer looked overwhelmed, as he had a few moments earlier; instead he seemed to be trying to make sense of something incomprehensible.