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that he was in those woods by chance?’

    The question was asked lightly, but as he replied he looked at Harriet quite steadily.

    ‘No. I think he went there to meet someone, and either that person or another who knew of the meeting, attacked and killed him.’

    ‘And given the meeting place . . . ?’

    ‘And given the meeting place, he expected to meet someone from either Thornleigh or Caveley. I think you believe the same, and yet I doubt you suspect anyone in your own household. But that does not necessarily help us understand what the right course of action might be.’

    Mrs Westerman stood and walked over to where the French windows gave out onto the lawns at the side of the house.

    ‘My husband and I were a little naive perhaps, when we bought this estate. It has not been easy to manage a household of this size, and look after its interests while he is away. I did it all at first for my husband and my son.’ She turned quickly, smiling at him. ‘I have a daughter too - just six months old. Her name is Anne. Born the day before her father sailed for the West Indies.’ Her features softened a little when she spoke about her children. Crowther began to ready himself for some fuller discussion of their unique gifts and graces, but she moved on. ‘Perhaps if I had my own way, I would abandon it even now, but I can be stubborn, Mr Crowther. This is now my home, the village is my home and Thornleigh seems to sit above it all like a great black crow. There is something wrong in that house. Something wounded and rotten. I am sure of it.’

    He set aside his cup and looked up at her a little wearily.

    ‘And have been sure for a while, I dare say,’ he replied, ‘and now you have all the moral authority a corpse on your lands can give you, so you may have the adventure of exposing it. It will make a change from estate management. Oh, and as you described Thornleigh as nestling in its own valley a little while ago, I don’t think I can allow you to have it as a crow towering above the neighbourhood. Perhaps the black dragon in its cave.’

    She looked surprised. ‘I am glad I called you, Mr Crowther. You are very frank.’

    ‘You summoned me from my bed before noon, have shown a terrible lack of deference to the local lords, and sworn at least once in my presence. You should not expect me to bother with the normal forms of politeness.’

    She looked at him, but there was no sign of a smile to lighten his words.

    ‘I prefer it so,’ she replied, looking more pleased than he expected. ‘And you are probably right about my metaphors. I have always had a fondness for dragons, though I shall not malign them with comparison to Thornleigh. Thornleigh Hall can be a malignant spider’s nest when I next feel my rhetoric take hold of me.’ He did allow himself to smile a little now. She looked at him directly. ‘Are you not curious also? Do you not wish to know why this man died, and by whose hand? Those threads you gathered in the copse . . . I took that action to mean the puzzle interests you?’

    He sighed and shifted in his seat.

    ‘This is not a parlour game, madam. You shall not complete a riddle and gain polite applause for it. You must ask impertinent questions, and however just your cause, it is unlikely you will be thanked for it. Many good men and women have refused to go down that path and perhaps you should think about following their example. I confine my work to the dead as a rule because the dead speak a great deal more truth, and are often better company than the living. For many years now I have preferred a dead dog to a hand of cards.’ Harriet was surprised into another laugh, as he continued unemotionally: ‘Perhaps I will help you drive out your nest of spiders, or dragons or crows, but I do so from a position of strength. I have nothing to lose.’

    ‘And I do? My reputation you mean? It is already known I can be a little outspoken, but yes, possibly I may do further damage to it by