Dance to Your Daddy

but with no result.'

'Nobody had been hurt, then, if it was a shot?'

'Nobody.'

'You talked about my native sense of fair play before you told me this Wild West story, but, at the thought of it, beneath a flippant line of talk I am concealing a sensation of horror at the danger you may have been in. By 'fair play' I take you to mean that there is the possibility that Rosamund could have taken a pop at you had she wished to do so. After all, she knew Romilly had moved out of that room and that it had been given over to you, didn't she?'

'She did, of course, and I do not lose sight of the fact that she may believe she has a motive for wishing me out of the way.'

'You mean because of the way the Will of her grandfather is worded. But does she know who you are? Anyway, it's a bit of an outside chance that you'd ever inherit, the way I read the provisions.'

'She may have reached the stage when anybody named in the will seems a potential threat to her inheritance. I do not imagine that she is particularly well-versed in these matters.'

'And the next, or equal, subject is Romilly himself, I suppose?'

'Well, not necessarily. It is true that he, Rosamund and Judith-not forgetting Romilly's sinister and dour manservant Luke, who may also have known that Romilly's room had been changed and that I had been given it-all knew where I was sleeping, but there are other considerations. I did not feel it would be fitting to tell you, in front of Rosamund, of Romilly's extraordinary treatment of his guests, but it turned out that he had brought them to his house under false pretences by promising them benefits which he was unable to bestow. The details do not matter at the moment-although I have some plans which I may be able to carry out later on-but the point is that, as some of them had visited Galliard Hall at some previous time, they might have thought that Romilly was still in occupation of the same room...'

'And could have taken a pop at showing that they were displeased with him,' said Laura. 'That sounds much the likeliest theory, I should say. Well, thank goodness they didn't do it-at least, not through the hole in your wall.'

'Of course, it was not until the day after this disturbance that Romilly told his relatives of his April Fool jesting.'

'That does rather knock my theory on the head, then.'

'Therefore we may shelve it, and read our letters,' said Dame Beatrice, reflecting upon how relatively simple it is to use truthful words to give an entirely wrong impression of the truth.

(2)

It was one of Laura's tasks, as secretary, to deal with the morning's correspondence. She collected it from the table in the hall and left there any letters which were addressed to the servants. The rest she sorted at the breakfast table, for most of Dame Beatrice's official correspondence was sent direct to her London clinic and dealt with there. For the rest, Laura sorted out her own letters and passed on, unopened, anything of a personal nature sent to Dame Beatrice. A telegram came addressed to her employer that morning so she handed it over without comment. Dame Beatrice read it and handed it back.

'Hubert and Willoughby were not at the gathering,' she said. 'The inference to be drawn from this telegram is that Hubert has been murdered, but who would want to murder an inoffensive clergyman?'

'Do you intend to go along?'

'I was not particularly attracted to Judith, but she may be in need of help.'

'May I come with you? I mean, Eiladh doesn't really need me and I need a little diversion. Babies are all very well, but, having pleased my husband and my son by giving up nine plus eight months of my rapidly-vanishing life to the procreation and maintenance of one that I didn't particularly want, I do now want some fun. Please let me come.'

'Of course you must come. I will telegraph Judith to expect us this afternoon.'

'What about the girl Rosamund?'

'Celestine can take charge of her for a few hours, I think. I will warn her not to allow her to wander away.'

They arrived at Galliard Hall at half-past three. This time there was nobody on the terrace. Luke, in his butler's garb, answered the door, his customary hang-dog glumness replaced by an equally hang-dog expression of fear and anxiety.

'The master's in the small drawing-room, madam, if you'd come this way,' he said.

'Is he alone?' Dame Beatrice asked.

'Except for Mrs Judith, yes, madam. The police have gone.'

Judith was lying on a settee with the drop-end down. Romilly rose from an armchair when the visitors were announced and managed to smile, although he looked haggard and appeared not to have shaved. The high colour had gone from Judith's cheeks, her eyes were lustreless and she looked extremely ill. She raised herself on one elbow and then lowered her feet to the ground, sat up and held out both hands to Dame Beatrice.

'How good of you to come,' she said simply. 'We're in the most dreadful mess.'

Dame Beatrice introduced Laura, to whom she then gave a small notebook.

'Now,' she said, when they were seated and Laura had produced a ball-point pen, 'to business. What's it all about?'

(3)

'Uncle Romilly and I found the body,' said Judith. 'After you had taken Trilby away yesterday he was very restless and...'