Roger said: “Asleep?”

“Breathing,” she corrected. “Under drugs, you can be sure of that. I couldn’t get across to Ricky’s room quickly enough. His bed had been slept in, but it was empty. His clothes were gone, and so was a suitcase — one I unpacked for him when he arrived, three weeks ago. Belle just couldn’t live without him.”

Roger sensed criticism of Belle Shawn. Disapproval or just impatience? he wondered.

“Toothbrush and things gone?” he asked.

“Yes.” Lissa stood upright. “That was a relief, they wouldn’t take his toothbrush if they didn’t mean to look after him.” She probably meant “If they meant to kill him.”

“I suppose not,” Roger said.

She said sharply: “Don’t you agree?”

“Supposing we don’t take anything for granted? They would take his toothbrush if they wanted us to think that they were going to take good care of him, wouldn’t they?”

She stared down at him; and now her honey-coloured eyes weren’t smiling, they were nearly threatening.

“If you say that to Belle or to David,” she said, “I won’t forgive you.”

She was a new experience for Roger; working with her would be as invigorating as a walk in the teeth of a high wind.

“Did you look round the rest of the house?” he asked.

“Surely. The back door was open.”

She had been thorough, she had a mind for detail, and she had kept her head. Added to everything he had seen about her was an underlying factor which might be a truer indication of her nature; coolness in emergency.

Marino put an elbow on the polished desk, and said with a hint of impatience: