"You wished to see me?"

"I wanted to ask you a few questions about your employer – your late employer perhaps I should say."

"Poor soul," said Miss Grosvenor unconvincingly.

"I want to know if you have noticed any difference in him lately."

"Well, yes. I did, as a matter of fact."

"In what way?"

"I couldn't really say… He seemed to talk a lot of nonsense. I couldn't really believe half of what he said. And then he lost his temper very easily – especially with Mr Percival. Not with me, because of course I never argue. I just say, 'Yes, Mr Fortescue,' whatever peculiar thing he says – said, I mean."

"Did he – ever – well – make any passes at you?"

Miss Grosvenor replied rather regretfully:

"Well, no, I couldn't exactly say that."

"There's just one other thing. Miss Grosvenor. Was Mr Fortescue in the habit of carrying grain about in his pocket?"

Miss Grosvenor displayed a lively surprise.

"Grain? In his pocket? Do you mean to feed pigeons or something?"

"It could have been for that purpose."

"Oh I'm sure he didn't. Mr Fortescue? Feed pigeons? Oh no."

"Could he have had barley – or rye – in his pocket today for any special reason? A sample, perhaps? Some deal in grain?"

"Oh no. He was expecting the Asiatic Oil people this afternoon. And the President of the Atticus Building Society… No one else."

"Oh well –" Neele dismissed the subject and Miss Grosvenor with a wave of the hand.

"Lovely legs she's got," said Constable Waite with a sigh. "And super nylons –"

"Legs are no help to me," said Inspector Neele. "I'm left with what I had before. A pocketful of rye – and no explanation of it."

Chapter 4

Mary Dove paused on her way downstairs and looked out through the big window on the stairs. A car had just driven up from which two men were alighting. The taller of the two stood for a moment with his back to the house surveying his surroundings. Mary Dove appraised the two men thoughtfully. Inspector Neele and presumably a subordinate.