“So what was that all about?” asked Roy. “Don’t you trust the vicar?”

“I don’t trust his wife. First, that gown she was wearing cost a fortune. Secondly, she deliberately spilled lemonade over the accounts. Thirdly, I think she’s getting her harpy fingers into the money.”

“But what about that poor accountant? What if someone forces him to get the money and then bumps him off?”

Agatha stood stock-still. Then she said, “Snakes and bastards. I might be risking his life. Back to Arnold’s we go.”

Agatha explained carefully to Arnold that he should give her the key and let it be known that she had it. The elderly accountant looked relieved. “I do feel all that money is a great responsibility. The manager at the bank was very helpful. He said I could use a little room there to do the accounts and that means the money does not need to leave the bank. Then when I have counted it thoroughly-I thought I had already done so, but there seem to be some discrepancies-it can go into a separate account and then cheques can be sent to the various beneficiaries.”

“You mean, money is missing?”

“Oh, I am sure it is all down to my faulty eyesight. Here is the key. I will collect it from you when I need it at your office if you will supply me with the address.”

Agatha handed him a card. “I’ll go with you,” she said. “When it gets to the chequebook stage, there is no reason for anyone else to have to sign the cheques.”

“I had thought of two signatures, mine and Mr. Chance.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” said Agatha briskly.

“Now you’ve put your own life at risk,” said Roy as they walked back to their original parking place.

“I think I’ve made it all too complicated for dear Trixie.”

“What if it’s someone else?”

“There is no one else. Oh, here comes the lady of the manor.”

Miss Triast-Perkins came slowly towards them. “Have you just come from the vicarage?” she asked.