He drew the phone towards him and dialled TOL. He asked for Baydon Heath 3400.

Presently a man's voice said: "Baydon Heath 3400."

"I want to speak to Mrs Fortescue or Miss Fortescue."

"Sorry. They aren't in, either of 'em."

The voice struck Inspector Neele as slightly alcoholic.

"Are you the butler?"

"That's right."

"Mr Fortescue has been taken seriously ill."

"I know. They rung up and said so. But there's nothing I can do about it. Mr Val's away up North and Mrs Fortescue's out playing golf. Mrs Val's gone up to London but she'll be back for dinner and Miss Elaine's out with her Brownies."

"Is there no one in the house I can speak to about Mr Fortescue's illness? It's important."

"Well – I don't know." The man sounded doubtful. "There's Miss Ramsbottom – but she don't ever speak over the phone. Or there's Miss Dove – she's what you might call the 'ousekeeper."

"I'll speak to Miss Dove, please."

"I'll try and get hold of her."

His retreating footsteps were audible through the phone. Inspector Neele heard no approaching footsteps but a minute or two later a woman's voice spoke.

"This is Miss Dove speaking."

The voice was low and well poised, with clear-cut enunciation. Inspector Neele formed a favourable picture of Miss Dove.

"I am sorry to have to tell you. Miss Dove, that Mr Fortescue died in St Jude's Hospital a short time ago. He was taken suddenly ill in his office. I am anxious to get in touch with his relatives –"

"Of course. I had no idea –" She broke off. Her voice held no agitation, but it was shocked. She went on: "It is all most unfortunate. The person you really want to get in touch with is Mr Percival Fortescue. He would be the one to see to all the necessary arrangements.