“I am assuming that you are Mrs Robinov,” he said, brows slightly raised. She made acknowledgment by inclining her head, her expression unchanging. “Could we talk privately for a few moments?”

He was taken to what was obviously a fitting-room, for it contained a large cutting table, several chairs, three wall mirrors. Bony was not invited to be seated.

“I have been assigned the investigation into the death of Mr. Goldspink,” Bony explained. “There is-”

Mrs Robinov cut him short. Furious anger made her speak with emphatic deliberation.

“I am not going to answer your questions, and I am not having my girls questioned, unless my solicitor is present. You can wait here while I telephone him.”

“That would incur unnecessary expense,” Bony said, faint horror in his voice and eyes. “Surely I don’t look like an ogre? As you wish, of course, but why not put me on trial first? I’m not in the least suspecting that you or one of your assistants, had anything whatever to do with Mr Goldspink’s death.”

“Inspector Stillman did,” retorted Mrs Robinov. “He nagged me almost to insanity and made Mary Isaacs a nervous wreck. I won’t have any more of it.”

“Inspector Stillman!” exclaimed Bony, and then vented a long and understanding “Oh!” Mrs Robinov, who was actually on her way to the telephone, hesitated, turned fully to him. “Now I can understand your attitude, Mrs Robinov-and sympathise with you. I’m sure you won’t find me an Inspector Stillman. And I certainly wouldn’t force my presence on you were it not for the fact that the person who poisoned Mr Goldspink and Mr Parsons hasn’t yet been apprehended. It’s all very unpleasant, I know. Don’t you see, someone else may be similarly poisoned, and so I was hoping to have the help of everyone in the position to do so.” Carefully placing emphasis on the first personal pronoun, he added: “Please don’t think I am another Inspector Stillman.”