high and the photographer had captured a look of anticipatory greed on her face.
‘So our famous vegetarian, Becket, caught in the act.’
‘It’s not a crime,’ said Becket.
‘This would frighten her. She has set herself up to promote vegetarianism. People pay to join her society. She has even given lectures in America. It looks as if Mrs Jerry decided to go to the police and one of them killed her.’
‘Are you going to take this to Kerridge?’
‘No, let me think. They should be given a chance to explain themselves. What if the blackmailer is Tristram, who knew what was in the box and decided to make some money for himself?’
Rose and Daisy waited anxiously in the ante-room. Then they heard the front door open and the next moment Harry and Becket entered the room.
‘You’re a clever girl,’ said Harry to Rose. ‘The blackmailing stuff was in the box.’
‘What is it?’ asked Rose, reaching for the letters.
‘No, don’t read those,’ said Harry sharply. ‘They are letters to Lord Alfred from a young man with whom he had been having an affair. If the police got hold of these, he could go to prison and this Jimmy with him. You can look at the photographs.’
Rose exclaimed, ‘Oh, do look at Mrs Stockton, Daisy. Positively salivating over roast beef. And Mrs Jerry! How disgusting. But our criminal must be Lord Alfred.’
‘It could be Tristram,’ said Harry. ‘Have you thought of that?’
‘Oh, dear, what are we going to do?’
‘I will see Lord Alfred tomorrow.’
‘And I will see Mrs Stockton,’ said Rose.
‘How can you get out of the house?’
‘I will just go,’ said Rose. ‘I will be in trouble again.’
‘Well, I cannot see Angela Stockton shooting and drugging and strangling over roast beef. But you are not to give her the photograph until she tells you who was blackmailing her. I believe someone knew the contents of this box and took over the blackmailing from Mr Pomfret.’
‘And then do we go to the police?’
‘If it should prove to be either Tristram or Lord Alfred, yes, certainly.’
‘Kerridge will charge you with withholding vital evidence.’
‘I believe Kerridge will be only too grateful to have the case cleared up.’
Rose hardly slept that night. What would Angela say? How would she react? The next morning she fretted that her mother would insist on her making calls and so she sent Daisy to say she had a headache. Lady Polly was feeling well disposed towards her daughter because she guessed that Rose was about to thaw and accept Tristram’s hand in marriage and so she contented herself with telling Daisy to bathe her daughter’s forehead in eau de cologne.
The countess went off to make her calls while her husband slept by the fire. At three in the afternoon, Rose and Daisy went quickly out of the house. The lady’s maid, Turner, had promised not to tell anyone they had gone out without permission.
Rose and Daisy giggled over the forthcoming confrontation. It seemed hilarious to them that anyone would pay such a large sum to a blackmailer because they had been caught out eating roast beef.
As they approached Angela’s house, Daisy suddenly burst into song:
Rose burst out laughing and had to stop and mop her streaming eyes.
‘Oh, Daisy,’ she gasped, ‘how are we ever going to get through this without laughing?’
‘No, she won’t,’ agreed Rose, suddenly sober. ‘Here’s her house. I’m suddenly beginning to wish she weren’t at home.’
Angela’s butler disappeared with their cards. Daisy was very proud to have her own case of visiting cards.
He reappeared and asked them to follow him to the drawing-room. Rose shivered. Although the day was warm, inside seemed to hold all the chill of winter.
Angela rose to meet them as they were ushered into the drawing-room. She was wearing a black-and-gold Turkish turban of a type favoured by ladies almost a hundred years ago. Her long loose gown was of deep purple velvet trimmed with gold embroidery.
‘How very kind of you to call,’ she fluted. Her American accent sounded peculiar because over the years Angela had tried to replace it with an upper-class English one, but her voice seemed to be permanently stuck somewhere in mid-Atlantic, neither one nor the other.
‘Do be seated. I was about to have some fennel tea. May I press you to some?’
Daisy stifled a giggle, having had a sudden vision of both of them being pressed to a teapot.
‘No, thank you,’ said Rose. ‘We are here on serious business.’
‘Dear me. Nothing to do with that frightful business at Farthings?’
‘Yes, it has.’
Angela got to her feet and went and closed the double doors of the drawing-room.
She returned and perched on the edge of a chair and looked at them inquiringly.
‘A photograph has come into my possession,’ said Rose, not feeling like laughing any more. ‘I believe it was this photograph which Mr Pomfret was using to blackmail you.’
‘Do you have this supposed photograph with you?’
‘No,’ said Rose. ‘I left it at home.’
‘Then why are you here? You cannot need money.’
‘I need to know the name of the person who was blackmailing you. If you tell me that, I assure you I will destroy the photograph.’
‘Why, it was Freddy Pomfret, the ghastly little counter jumper.’
‘I think someone knew what the blackmailing material was and approached you at Farthings. I think Mrs Jerry threatened to go to the police and that was why she was murdered. Did you know why Mrs Jerry and Lord Alfred were being blackmailed as well?’
‘Yes, Mr Pomfret took great delight in telling me.’
‘So who approached you at Farthings?’
‘It was Lord Alfred. Now, are you satisfied? Go and get that photograph.’
‘Captain Cathcart is at present interviewing Lord Alfred. If Lord Alfred confesses, I will return the photograph.’
Angela clutched the arms on her chair so tightly that her knuckles stood out white.
‘I am not going to have my life’s work destroyed,’ said Angela, staring straight ahead. She seemed almost to be talking to herself.
‘I was brought up near Fairfax, Virginia. We were good family but we never had any money. Father gambled and Mother kept telling me how plain I looked. And then I met Mr Stockton at a cotillion ball in Richmond. To my delight, he started courting me. I knew him to be very rich. He had clawed his way up from a poor family and thought that by marrying me it would give him class. He only survived a year of our marriage. The doctor diagnosed a heart attack.
‘I came to London and set out to make myself known. I knew I was psychic and I had read the works of Mr Steiner. I set up my vegetarian society. I lectured all over Britain, and the States, too. I was someone at last.
‘And then that Pomfret creature threatened to destroy me. Have you told the police?’
Rose shook her head.
‘But your parents know about this.’
‘No,’ said Rose, ‘they do not even know I am here.’
‘Good, good, let me think.’
‘There’s nothing to think about,’ said Rose sharply. ‘As soon as I hear that Lord Alfred has confessed, you
