'What's this about Mr Kellow?' she asked, hands clasped tightly.

'Perhaps your husband ought to be here as well,' he suggested. 'You may need his support.'

'He's busy at the moment, Sergeant Leeming.'

'Is there someone else you'd like to be present?'

She began to tremble. 'It's bad news, isn't it?'

'I'm afraid that it is.'

'Something has happened to Mr Kellow – I knew it. He went off to Cardiff yesterday and never came back. I had supper waiting for him as usual but…'

Her voice trailed off and she brought out a handkerchief to stem the tears that were already forming. Leeming knew that he could not tell her the full truth because Mrs Jennings was not strong enough to cope with it. From the way that she mentioned her lodger's name, it was clear that she was fond of Hugh Kellow. The sergeant had to be tactful.

'He met with an accident, Mrs Jennings.'

'Was he badly hurt?'

'I'm afraid that he was killed.'

She gave a shudder and used the handkerchief to smother the cry that came from her lips. Swaying to and fro, she went off into a kind of trance, gazing at the ceiling and talking silently to herself. It was minutes before she remembered that she had company.

'I'm sorry, Sergeant,' she said. 'That was very rude of me.'

'No apology is required, Mrs Jennings,'

'I just can't believe it. Mr Kellow was such a nice young man. He's been with us for almost two years. He always paid the rent on time. We appreciated that, sir. He was so quiet,' she went on, 'and I can't say that about all the lodgers we've had. He spent most of his time reading those books.'

'What books would they be?'

'Books about silver,' she explained. 'He showed them to me one day. They had wonderful drawings of things that we could never afford to buy – silver tableware and such like. It's another world, Sergeant.'