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as I know.’
    â€˜I see.’ There was a pause, and I asked him what exactly he had meant, saying she had disappeared.
    â€˜Gone away,’ he said, ‘leaving no address. Most extraordinary. There’s a mortgage on the house, and we’re negotiating with the mortgagors on the basis of your valuation. Obviously she can’t sell the property unless they agree to termination and are satisfied there will be sufficient funds to cover everything as a result of the sale. And now she’s gone. I had written to hertwice – there’s no phone there, you see – and when she didn’t reply, I told one of my staff who had to call on a client in Woodbridge yesterday to go on up to Aldeburgh and see her. She didn’t answer the door, and when he enquired of the neighbours, he was told she had left. At least, they had seen her leaving in a taxi with two large suitcases. That was on Saturday, and no forwarding address. He enquired of the neighbours, the local shops, and checked with Aldeburgh Post Office. Milk and paper delivery had been stopped and the bills paid. I thought you might be able to help.’
    â€˜In what way?’
    â€˜Well, I haven’t seen her since her father died. That was three or four years ago. You’ve met her recently, and I was wondering whether she’d given you any indication she might be going away – to stay with a relative or friends. She can’t have had an easy time of it these last few years, looking after that brother of hers. He was very badly injured, you know. Now, can you help me at all?’
    â€˜I’m afraid not,’ I told him. ‘I was expecting a letter from her myself, and she certainly didn’t say anything about going away.’
    â€˜You talked to her, then?’
    â€˜For a short time, just before I left when she brought me some tea.’ I started to tell him then about the wood carvings and Carlos Holland, but he interrupted me.
    â€˜Yes, but what was her frame of mind? I’m just trying to decide whether I ought to do something aboutit. I can’t ever remember a client going off suddenly like this without a word when we’re trying to get a mortgage position cleared up. And it was at her request, I may say. But the point is this … well, life hasn’t exactly been a bed of roses for her, first her father, then her brother – I wondered whether you’d been able to form any opinion of her mental state. She’d no relatives in the country, nobody she can turn to, I do know that.’
    â€˜If you’re worried she may be suicidal,’ I said, ‘you can forget it. That was not her mood at all.’ And I added, ‘She’s got another brother, I believe. Why not contact him? Presumably you have his address.’
    â€˜I don’t think that would help. He’s out in the Pacific somewhere.’
    â€˜Had she any money of her own at all, money she could use to fly out there?’
    â€˜I can’t answer that.’ There was a pause, and then the high, crisp voice said, ‘Well, thank you. Thank you very much for your help.’ And he put the phone down.
    There were a lot of papers piled on my desk, but it was difficult to concentrate, wondering if I had been justified in declaring so categorically she was not in a suicidal state. Nothing in our conversation had indicated that she had any friends in England, and though she apparently had the money to pay her bills and hire a taxi, that didn’t mean she had enough to do whatever it was she had in mind. And here I was with a bid of £1,500, which I had offered to increase, and no means of contacting her.
    And then, just as I was packing up to leave, stuffingRowlinson’s papers into my briefcase so that I could refresh my memory before he came to see me that evening, the girl in the outer office rang through to say a Mr Berners was on the phone wanting to speak to me personally. I told her to find