tension, the end of a speculative anxiety, together with the suspicion that he had committed an enormous blunder. The most merciful thing, and perhaps the only merciful thing, that Ducane could do for him was to remove, as far as possible, this latter regret. He said, 'If you hadn't told me it would certainly have come out somehow. McGrath would have talked. And given that the thing was still largely a puzzle I could hardly have made a final report on it without mentioning you.' 'Well, now that I've told you, are you going to mention me?' Ducane realized that he was feeling very, very tired indeed. He wanted this interrogation to end. He wanted to be able to think about what he had learnt. He said, 'I don't think that I can conceal a murder. It's a matter of one's duty. It's almost a technical point.' 'Damn your duty,' said Biranne. He got up, swinging the chair away from him with one hand. 'Would I be accessory after the fact?' 'I'm afraid so.' 'It would be the end of my career.' 'Yes. I'm sorry, Biranne, I just don't see how I can protect you. Quite apart from the fact that you saw a murder committed and have been in possession of the murderer's confession, there's the completeness of my own case to consider. I levant to what one in been asKea to out. but tnis isn't irrelevant. In particular this document, which I'll keep if you don't mind, isn't irrelevant. My brief was to find out why Radeechy killed himself. This piece of paper is the complete answer to that question.' 'Isn't it enough that you know the answer to the question? You can tell the powers that be with a clear conscience that you know there was no security point involved. Of course you won't get so much kudos ' 'It's not a matter of kudos,' said Ducane. 'It's a matter of doing one's job properly. I'm sorry, Biranne, I don't want to break you, but you must see ' 'Yes, yes, I see. Duty, one's job. I suppose I ought to be cool about it. Or think I'm being suitably recompensed or something. But I don't hold any theory of punishment. I'm a good civil servant and I want to go on being one. I don't want to have to start my life again. In fact I haven't behaved all that badly, I've just been unlucky. It all seemed pretty innocuous at the start.' 'Scarcely what I'd call innocuous,' said Ducane. 'And I think you ought to stop seeing Judy McGrath.' 'Why? Do you want her?' 'Of course not. It's just that someone in your position ' 'According to you I'm not going to have a position quite soon. And then presumably I can associate with whom I please. However, it's yours to command. You're the boss now. You can give me any orders, you can make me any conditions – until you've turned me in, that is.' 'Enough, enough, enough,' said Ducane. He felt that he was beginning to be confused. There was no good reason to mention Judy. He said, 'Look, you'd better go now. We're both too tired to think. I promise you I won't make any move for two or three days, and I won't make any move without seeing you again. And of course I won't meniion this yet to another soul. I'll think about it carefully. Now please go.' Ducane opened the drawing-room door and they both emerged into the hall. 'Did you have a coat?' 'No, it's a warm night.' 'Well – thank you for coming.' Biranne laughed shortly. Ducane opened the front door. They both stood still in the doorway. Ducane felt the need to touch Biranne. He put a hand upon his shoulder for a moment in a gesture which was almost shy. Biranne moved away, and then turning held out his right hand. They shook hands hastily and Biranne disappeared into the street. Ducane, turning from the closed door with a self-conscious gesture of exhaustion, noticed that he was standing upon a letter which lay on the that. It must have been delivered by hand sometime since Fivey's return. It was from McGrath. With a feeling of deep gloom Ducane carried it into the drawing-room. The room was still tense and sinister. He tore open McGrath's letter destroying the envelope with angry fingers. The missive read as follows: Dear Sir, as you will no doubt have ascertained by this time I have sent off one of the articles in question to the person concerned. I still have the other one and will not send it off, subject to our arrangement, as I am sure you will agree, the figures being the same, or perhaps we could talk it over. I will take the liberty of telephoning you tomorrow morning. With all respects, Yours truly, McGrath Which has he sent? thought Ducane. Kate was still away. Jessica had not replied to his postcard. It makes no difference, he thought. He will be sending the other one in the next few days. He hesitated, and then tore up McGrath's letter. There was no point trying to build up a case against the man, and they both knew it. He could not possibly risk exposing Jessica and Kate. The only person exposed must be himself. Radeechy's confession still lay upon the side table. Ducane put it into his desk and locked it in without glancing at it again. His thought shied away from the image of Radeechy writing it, Radeechy full of murderous self-destructive hate. Ducane knew that he had not the present resources to pity Radeechy and there was no point in thinking about him. I feel sick, sick, he said to himself. He turned out the drawing-room lights and began to mount the stairs. It was dark in his bedroom but there was a light on in the bathroom and he went straight in there without turning on any lamps. He undressed quickly, trying not to see himself in the mirror. The intense desire for sleep, for oblivion, came to him with a physical reminiscence of times of unhappiness in his childhood. What a mess, thought Ducane what a Christ awful mess. But sleep now, sleep, sleep. He buttoned his pyjamas and emerged into his bedroom, switching the lights on. As he approached his bed he saw that there was already somebody in it. 'I thought you were never coming up!' said Judy McGrath 'It's only little Judy.'
Judy McGrath had thrust the blankets back and reposed, propped up on one arm. She was naked. She moved over and patted the white surface of the bed invitingly. 'You were such a long time, I dozed off.'
Ducane saw her body through a sort of haze. The lamps seemed to be giving very little light. Or perhaps he was just very tired. He took his black silk dressing gown off a chair and put it on. He said, 'Did you come with Biranne?'
'What, Mr Honey?'
'Did you come with Biranne?'
'No, I just came with my own self. The back door was open, and I walked in. I soon guessed which was your room. Don't be cross with me, Mr Honey.'
It must be some sort of plot, thought Ducane. He said, 'Where's your husband with his little camera?' As he used the word 'little' he was aware that he was imitating not only Biranne's words but even Biranne's voice.
'I wouldn't do anything like that to you, Mr Honey. This is for free, I love you.'
'I doubt if you know much about love, Judy.'
'You can't say that to anybody, Mr Honey.'
She's right, thought Ducane. He swayed a little and then sat down in a chair. He realized that he had drunk a
