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he delivered a double entendre and winked at the audience.
    Nor was my impression of the inspector improved when he insisted on treating French and me as suspects. Allen had already put French through the mill, despite French’s military rank and his relationship to the prime minister, which he had trotted out immediately. Allen affected to be unimpressed. Then he’d turned on me.
    “And you say you are Mr. French’s cousin.” He said it blandly enough, but there was a trace of smugness all the same. I resisted the urge to paste him in the mustache.
    “Yes, I am, as Mr. French has already informed you.”
    Allen’s lips twisted around the matchstick in a smirk of outstanding proportions. “Really?”
    I remained mum. I wasn’t going to be provoked by the impudent fellow.
    “On which side of the family?” asked Allen. What an infernal nuisance he was.
    “Maternal,” said French. “And that will be the last question we answer regarding family matters.”
    Allen shrugged. I doubt the fellow would know when he was defeated and those types of policemen are the worst. This one might prove to be a real thorn in my side.
    “Had you met Colonel Mayhew?” The inspector directed the question at me, having already ascertained that French had run across Mayhew at some army doings and had promised to pay a call on him sometime.
    “I had not. He was an acquaintance of my cousin.”
    “I see.” The tone was both disbelieving and impertinent. Allen sauntered from his position behind my chair and leaned against the wall, chewing the matchstick with grinding patience. He shot his cuffs and crossed his arms, staring at French.
    “Is there any particular reason you chose to visit the colonel on a Sunday? It’s an unusual day and an unusual hour for a social call.”
    The inspector might not be as dim-witted as I had thought.
    “I’ve already explained this to you, Inspector. I remembered that I had promised Francis I’d drop round the next time I was in London.”
    “Was the colonel a religious man?”
    “I don’t know. I suppose it didn’t occur to me that he might have gone to services. If he’d been out, I’d have left my card. I plan to return to the country this afternoon.”
    Allen looked at him gravely. “And no doubt you forgot that most people are off to church on Sunday as a result of that blow to the head you suffered during the carriage accident. Tell me, sir, where did your accident occur?”
    I hastily revised my opinion of the chap. This Allen was shaping up as a formidable foe.
    “The accident occurred on the road,” said French, coldly. “Where carriage accidents usually do. And my driver will be well soon.” I could see that French was regretting his invention of an accident to explain our injuries, but we could hardly divulge the truth.
    “At what time of day did the incident occur?” Allen asked politely, but there was an undercurrent of skepticism that sounded ominous.
    “Saturday afternoon,” said French. “Will you be requiring an affidavit?”
    Allen laughed heartily. “Me, sir? Doubt your word, sir? I’m just asking as a matter of course. Getting it all straight in my head, as it were. Who was where and at what time. You know,
investigating the crime
, sir. I didn’t mean to cast aspersions on your statement, sir. Not at all.” He simpered behind the matchstick.
    “I should hope not,” said French, sounding very posh and arrogant. Good for you, I thought. No need to let this little bugger put us on the back foot with his questions. When you’ve got the trump card of social status, you may as well lay it on the table at the beginning of the game.
    French stood up, clapped his hat on his head, and proffered me his arm. “Now, if you don’t mind, I shall take my cousin away from here. She’s suffered a terrible shock.”
    I tried to look faint, which wasn’t all that difficult as I recalled the horror upstairs.
    “If you have any other questions, you may leave word for me at