Leeminster gave a little nod.

“Thank you,” Gunn said, and at last looked at the witness. Before he could speak, she burst out, “He couldn’t have attacked Ricky, he was with me, in Chelsea, in my flat.” Then she drew herself up and thrust her provocatively lifted bosom forward, adding in a ringing tone, “In my bed! And I’ve two witnesses to prove it.”

Someone gasped; two or three tittered; the newspapermen made notes with great eagerness, and Maisie Dunster surveyed the court with an air of triumph at having created a sensation. And she had. Gunn kept his self- control with an effort. He should have questioned the witness himself, of course; by allowing Rachel Warrender to do so he had invited trouble. It was partly because he wanted to hear what would be said. Then, almost unbelieving, he saw Roger West stand up and ask in a most casual-seeming voice, “As a point of interest, Miss Dunster, were the other two witnesses in your bed at the same time?”

Maisie Dunster turned to look at him.

“As a matter of fact, they were,” she said defiantly. “Have you never heard of a sex-party?”

Charles Gunn sat very still and expressionless. He was of a generation which could still be shocked, yet not surprised, by Maisie Dunster’s brazen statements; at such moments he concluded that he was much more Victorian than he had realised. But the essential thing was to rebuke West, and he said in his sternest voice, “Superintendent, you have no right at all to intervene. Such intervention amounts to contempt of court, as you must know.”

Farriman, glaring at Roger, obviously agreed. West’s expression was difficult to assess, and Gunn knew he had been fully aware of his offence but had taken the risk in order to throw some doubt on to the reliability of the witness.