'But there might have been someone.'

'The platform was very crowded and I had to make sure that my luggage was unloaded properly. By the time we left the railway station,' she said, 'Mr Kellow had long disappeared. Yet instead of delivering that coffee pot, he was in this very hotel – being killed only yards from my door!' She put the back of her hand to her forehead as if about to swoon, an attitude, Colbeck recalled, that she had struck as Desdemona. 'Nigel actually identified the body. He told me that it was a frightening spectacle. I could never have gone into that room.'

'That's why the superintendent didn't call upon you.'

'I prefer to remember Mr Kellow as he was on the train.'

'That's a sensible policy, Miss Linnane.'

'It's the only way I can get over the shock of it all,' she said, then she seemed to dismiss Kellow entirely from her mind. Her manner was conversational. 'Will you be staying long in Cardiff, Inspector?'

'I'll be here until the case is solved.'

'Then you'll have the time to visit the Theatre Royal.'

'I'll make a point of doing so,' said Colbeck. 'On my way there yesterday, I was given a playbill by one of the company – a charming young lady named Miss Tremaine.'

Kate frowned. 'She has some decorative appeal on stage, I grant you,' she conceded, 'but she's far too wooden to be an actress. Handing our playbills is more suitable employment for her.'

Colbeck heard the note of contempt in her voice. For the second time, he had a surge of sympathy for Laura Tremaine. While the actor-manager and leading lady enjoyed the luxury of the Railway Hotel, Laura would be staying in some squalid boarding house in the suburbs, dreaming, probably in vain, of the time when she would take leading parts in the classical repertoire. One thing was clear. The young actress would get neither help nor encouragement from Kate Linnane. The only person in whom she was interested was herself.