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day.’
    Gareth Alan Pitchford glanced round at all of us after Christine left, his expression troubled. It was as if he was seeking our permission for the interview we all knew couldn’t be avoided. Neill Heller Caesar finally inclined his head a degree.
    Bethany Maria Caesar had regained some composure since I saw her in Justin’s rooms. She was no longer crying, and her hair had been tidied up. Nothing could be done about her pallor, nor the defeated slump of her shoulders. A sorrowful sight in one so young and vibrant.
    Neill Heller Caesar hurriedly offered her a chair, only just beating me to it. She gave him a meek smile and lowered herself with gentle awkwardness, as if her body weighed more than usual.
    ‘I apologize for having to bring you in here, Miss Caesar,’ the detective said. ‘I’ll be as brief as possible. We just have a few questions. Formalities.’
    ‘I understand.’ She smiled bravely.
    ‘Where were you at ten thirty this evening?’
    ‘I’d gone back to my rooms at Uffington after the meal. There was some lab work which I needed to type up.’
    ‘Lab work?’
    ‘I’m taking biochemistry. It’s a busy subject right now, so much is opening up to us. It won’t be long now before we understand the genetic molecule; that’s the heart of life itself. Oh. I’m sorry. I’m rambling. It just takes my thought away from . . .’
    This time I was the one who chivalrously offered a glass of water. She took it gratefully, a small flustered smile touching her lips. ‘Thank you. I suppose I must have got to Uffers just after ten. The lodgekeepers should be able to tell you the exact time. They sign us in at night.’
    ‘Of course. Now what about Justin? You were closest to him, did you know if he was embroiled in any kind of antagonism with someone? Some wild incident? A grudge that wouldn’t go away?’
    ‘If you’d ever met Justin you wouldn’t have to ask that. But no . . . he hadn’t annoyed anyone. He wasn’t the type; he was quiet and loved his subject. Not that we were hermits. We went out to parties, and he played a few games for the college, but not at any level which counted. But we were going to make up for all that time apart after . . .’ She tugged a handkerchief out of her sleeve and pressed it against her face. Tears leaked out of tightly closed eyes.
    ‘I believe that’s sufficient information for now,’ Neill Heller Caesar said, fixing the detective with a pointed gaze.
    Gareth Alan Pitchford nodded his acceptance, clearly glad of the excuse to end the questioning. Neill Heller Caesar put his arm round Bethany’s trembling shoulders, and helped guide her from the interview room.
    ‘Not much to go on,’ the detective muttered gloomily once she was outside. ‘I’d welcome any suggestions.’ He looked straight at Francis, who was staring at the closed door.
    ‘Have patience. We simply don’t have enough information yet. Though I admit to being mystified as to any possible motive there could be for ending this young man’s life in such a terrifying way. We do so desperately need to uncover what it was that Justin encountered which led to this.’
    ‘I have a good team,’ the detective said, suddenly bullish. ‘You can depend on our investigation to uncover the truth.’
    ‘I don’t doubt it,’ Francis said with a conciliatory smile. ‘I think my colleague and I have seen enough for tonight. Why don’t we reconvene tomorrow – or, rather, later this morning, to review the case so far. The remaining interviews should be over by then, and forensic ought have finished with Justin’s room.’
    ‘As you wish,’ the detective said.
    Francis said nothing further until we were safely strapped up in his car and driving away from the station. ‘So, my boy, first impressions? I often find them strangely accurate. Human instinct is a powerful tool.’
    ‘The obvious one is Alexander,’ I said. ‘Which in itself would tend to exclude him. It’s too obvious. Other