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bride-clothes.’
    ‘What are you suggesting? ‘ Alison’s voice rose sharply. ‘That a member of this household, or my uncle ‘ s household, was in some way responsible for Clement’s disappearance? ‘
    ‘Yes, are you suggesting that?’ Marjorie echoed, her face bright red with indignation.
    I realized guiltily that my thoughts had indeed been straying in that direction. Supposing Ned or Rob or either of John Weaver’s men were hand-in-glove with one of the many cut-throat bands of thieves and pickpockets who roamed the London streets, and had given their fellow criminals prior warning... But no! How could they, when no one could have foreseen the exact circumstances of Clement Weaver’s arrival; the casting of his horse’s shoe, which prevented his riding straight into the courtyard of the Baptist’s Head and the safety of Thomas Prynne’s welcoming arms. Nor could anyone have foretold that Ned would not be with him. The two women were right to be angry. I had not allowed myself time to consider the implications of my question.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘It was a foolish conclusion to jump to.’
    ‘And a false one!‘ I wondered for a moment if Alison were about to withdraw her offer of a lodging for the night, but she went on: ‘I didn’t like the look of that place, the Crossed Hands inn.’
    ‘You think... You think it might have had something to do with your brother’s disappearance?’
    She chewed her bottom lip. ‘I’ve no reason for saying so,’ she admitted reluctantly, after a pause. ‘My father and uncle made inquiries there, when they were searching for Clement, but the landlord and servants swore they had heard and seen nothing. There was no cause to doubt them. Nor was there anything to suggest that they were in any way connected with what had happened to Clement.’
    ‘But you think that they might have been lying?’ Alison shrugged. ‘I just felt there was something a little sinister about the place, that’s all. I’m probably being silly.’
    I thought privately that she probably was. She had seen the inn under the most unfavourable conditions, late in the afternoon, in near darkness and pouring rain, when she was hungry and tired. And she had inevitably associated it with her brother‘s disappearance. It was the last time that she had seen him, standing beneath the flaring torchlight ... Once again, the picture sprang, fully formed, into my mind.
    I hesitated for a moment before putting my final question. It was a delicate one, and I felt for the second time that I could be putting my night’s billet by the kitchen fire at risk. Nevertheless, in spite of what Marjorie had said to me earlier, I felt compelled to ask it, if only for my own satisfaction. Wherever I slept, I should sleep the sounder for having tied up the loose ends of this problem. I have always disliked loose ends.
    ‘Is there any reason at all,’ I began cautiously, ‘why your brother would have ... might have ...? What I am trying to say is…’
    Alison Weaver interrupted me. Her voice was like ice. ‘You’re asking me if Clement would have robbed his own father? The answer to that is no.’
    I knew I should have left it there, but I persisted. I had to convince myself that she was telling the truth. ‘A great deal of money was involved. Young men have been known to succumb to sudden temptation.’
    I expected her to fly into a rage, but, somewhat to my surprise, she answered my impertinence calmly enough. Calmly, but, I have to admit, coldly. ‘Clement and I love our father. He has never given us reason to do otherwise. My brother, particularly, has always been close to him and will take over the business when my father is too old to continue. There has never been any dissension between them.’
    ‘I’ve already told you that,‘ the housekeeper reproached me.
    ‘I know.’ I was somewhat shamefaced. I could see she was hurt by my inability to accept her word, but I had needed confirmation.