Another man appeared from the kitchen, a third to “Herb” and his guide at the Embassy, sleek, youthful, fair, fresh-faced; his smile probably hid embarrassment.

“You take risks, Superintendent, don’t you?”

“Sometimes. Who are you?”

“Mr Antonio Marino sent me, to stay around until Lissa arrived with Superintendent West from Scotland Yard. How would you like to prove you’re West?”

Roger took out his wallet and flashed his CID card, gave the man time to look at it, put it away, and asked;

“How long has this screaming been going on?”

“It just blew up. Anything you would like me to do?”

“Make sure you haven’t touched anything in the kitchen.”

“Only a chair.”

Roger said: “I’ll see you in a minute,” and went to the dining-room, where a telephone stood on a table near the window. He covered the receiver with his handkerchief, then dialled the Embassy. All the time footsteps thudded on the ceiling, but there was no other sound; no crying. Marino was soon on the line.

“Roger West,” announced Roger. “That doctor isn’t here, and he’s needed in a hurry.”

“He’ll be there very soon,” Marino promised in his lazy voice. “I’m glad you called, Superintendent The Ambassador and the Commissioner are to have lunch together, and the Commissioner has been good enough to agree that you come and talk to me afterwards, instead of going straight to Scotland Yard.” Roger didn’t comment “What can you tell me?” Marino went on.

“That you will have to have some publicity, even if you say there’s been a burglary,” Roger said. “One of the neighbours probably knows what’s happened — Mrs Shawn’s voice can be heard a long way off. Make sure that doctor hurries, won’t you?”

“He’s already hurrying.” Marino sounded worried. “Is Pete Kennedy there?”

“If he’s the fair-haired man, yes. Just a moment.”

The man was Peter Kennedy. He spoke to Marino, then put the instrument down and said: “I have to be on my way, Mr West, unless there’s anything you need that no one else can give you.”