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me,” said Millie. “But Mr Parker-Trent
wouldn’t let her. He wouldn’t let me talk to her today.”
    “He wasn’t kind to that girl,” said Haxby.
    “So I’ve heard,” said Brady. “Hortense is from around these
parts, you know, and people still follow her progress. Rumour has it that
marrying Parker-Trent wasn’t the escape the poor girl thought it was going to
be.”
    “Do you think he pushed her?” asked Millie, horrified. “To
stop her talking to me? But why would he? Unless he was one the one she heard
talking. But what would he know about my father?”
    “That’s what I intend to find out,” said Brady.
    “Can we be there when you interview people?” asked Haxby.
    “Jim, I’ve told you, this isn’t the colonies. We have to do
things by the book here. And, whilst I hate to say this, you and Miss Woodridge
have to be treated as suspects.”
    “No, because we’re each other’s alibi,” said Haxby. “We
walked down Masson Hill together, and never lost sight of each other until they
came and told us about Mrs Parker-Trent. Isn’t that so, Millie?”
    “Yes,” said Millie. But her mind was thinking of something
else. If Mrs Parker-Trent spoke her last words to Haxby, who was to say he
didn’t silence her?
    “And what about when you were on the ledge with her, Haxby?”
asked Brady. He looked at Millie and nodded, as if he had guessed her train of
thought.
     
    “Oh come on, Simon,” said Haxby, his eyes flashing in anger.
“And you, Millie. You don’t really believe …”
    “No, I don’t,”  Simon said. “I know why you’re here, so
you’d have no reason to silence Mrs Parker-Trent.”
    “You do hear a lot,” said Haxby, smiling his easy smile.
    “I make it my business to know everything that’s happening.”
    “Then I wish someone would tell me,” said Millie, “so that I
can know too.”
    “Millie,” said Haxby, “I came here this weekend because I
was asked to investigate the possibility that someone in this house framed your
father. Not only that but they intend to betray the country again. That’s why
it was a surprise to see you here.”
    “Who? Chlomsky?”
    “That’s a possibility. The truth is we don’t know. Only that
our intelligence tells us that an important document was going to handed over
to an enemy agent at Fazeby Hall.”
    “By a visitor? Not someone living here already?” said
Millie. She could not imagine Henry and Cynthia Fazeby being involved in
wrongdoing, but anything was possible.
    “Actually that’s a good point,” said Haxby. “We don’t know
who is involved. So it could be anyone.”
    “How do you know it’s not me?” asked Millie.
    “I pride myself on being a good judge of character. There’s
no way you’d have sent your own father to his death.”
    “You don’t know me. For all you know I could be cold and
callous,” said Millie.
    “With those eyes? I don’t think so.”
    “Ahem,” said Simon Brady, grinning. “Now we’ve established
that Miss Woodridge’s eyes preclude her from being a femme fatale, shall we
concentrate on finding out who is guilty?”
     

 
    Simon Brady, still refusing to let Millie and Haxby take
part in the interviews, spoke to everyone who had visited Masson Hill that
morning, but no one had seen anything.
    Dinner that night was a sombre affair. Millie thought it was
a testament to British upper-class fortitude that it took place at all. The
world may be falling apart, but customs must be observed.
    Mr Parker-Trent was the only guest absent. Inspector Brady
left the Hall some time before, to continue with his investigations.
    “I left Parker-Trent sleeping,” said Count Chlomsky when he
joined them for an aperitif just before dinner was served. “It will be better
for him to rest.”
    “Yes, of course,” said Cynthia. “I wish there were something
we could do for the poor man.”
    Millie was surprised by how hard Hortense’s death had hit
Parker-Trent. She would have sworn that he