The trouble began when they motored through a village and a pretty girl stared at the car in open-mouthed admiration.

When they were clear of the village and Berrow saw a long straight stretch of road ahead, he called, "Stop!" Berrow had become jealous of Cyril at the wheel.

Cyril pulled to a halt. "What's up?"

"Let me take the wheel for a bit."

"You can't drive."

"Show me. Just how to move it along."

"Oh, all right." Cyril got out and they changed places.

After several attempts and crashing gears, Berrow managed to get the car to move forward. He pressed his foot down on the accelerator. Although the speed limit was thirty miles an hour, the Rolls was capable of doing a hundred.

Hedges hurtled past in a blur as Cyril screamed, "Ease off the accelerator!"

"What?" shouted Berrow. "This is fun."

As he hurtled down a bend in the road and straight at a hump-backed bridge, his scarf blew across his face. Panicking, Cyril grabbed the wheel. With a great crash, the car hit the parapet sideways on. The ancient stonework crumpled. Cyril was catapulted onto the river bank. He hit a stone with the full impact of his head and lay still.

Berrow stared down at him in horror. "Are you all right?" he called, but he was sure Cyril was dead.

He felt the car lurch. He got out carefully and went and looked at the damage. The wheels were hanging over the edge where the parapet had once been.

He struggled down the river bank to Cyril. He felt for a pulse but found none.

Berrow climbed back to the car. He would need to walk back to that village for help. His hands were shaking. He stood at the back of the car, lit a cigarette with a vesta and tossed the lighted match on the ground, unaware of the lake of petrol that had formed.

There was a terrific explosion as Berrow and the car went up in a fireball of flame.

Harry was to escort Rose to a luncheon party and she prayed he would not cancel.

They were accompanied by Daisy, Turner, the lady's maid, and two footmen. Rose began to wonder if she would ever have a chance to speak to Harry in private.

She was not seated next to him at table and so talked a little to the gentleman on her right-the weather-and the gentleman on her left-the state of the nation-picked at her food and thought the wretched meal with its eight courses would never end. How wonderful it would be, she thought, if I were to pick up the table-cloth and bundle all this food and take it down to the East End.

At last the hostess signalled to the ladies to join her in the drawing-room and leave the gentlemen to their port.

"Why are you looking so nervous?" whispered Daisy.

"Nothing." Rose wanted to tell Harry about her discovery first. A little twinge of guilt warned her that she should have confided in Daisy first, but Rose wanted to impress Harry, to show him she could detect as well.

At last the gentlemen came in. Bridge tables were being set up and Daisy's green eyes gleamed like a cat's. She was a killing bridge player.

Harry joined Rose. She whispered urgently, "I must talk to you in private."

"There's a conservatory at the back of the house. Let's walk there."

In the steamy warmth of the conservatory, they sat down on a bench in front of a marble statue of Niobe.

Harry was the first to speak. Rose listened in amazement when he told her how Berrow and Banks had hired Finch and how his secretary had nearly been killed. "The police commissioner in York is going to arrest them. Don't you see? You are safe now. They must have been the ones behind the murder of Dolly."

Rose's splendid deduction was losing its glow, but she said, "I have discovered something as well. I am sure it was Jeremy Tremaine who hired Reg Bolton."

"Why?"

"There is this c.o.c.kney who comes to the soup kitchen. He found G.o.d in prison. Don't you see? Jeremy is a divinity student. He could have been visiting prisoners and found a useful one."

"I really do think we'll find out it was Berrow and Banks."

Rose looked so disappointed that he said hurriedly, "To put your mind at rest, I can leave now and go to Wormwood Scrubs and check the book for visiting clerics."

"Take me with you. Please!"

"Very well. Tell Daisy to take Turner home in a cab."

Normally Daisy would have been curious, but she was so addicted to cards that she only nodded.

At the prison, the governor protested that he was too busy a man to keep dealing with Captain Cathcart's requests.

Rose gave him a blinding smile and the governor thawed. He not only produced the required books but suggested that he take Rose on a tour of the prison.

Wormwood Scrubs proved to be even larger than Rose had imagined. It generally contained a thousand male and two hundred female convicts. They walked round the laundries where the women worked and then to the bakeries where the prisoners in their ugly uniforms were baking bread. There was also shoemaking and tailoring going on.

What Rose found unnerving was that all the labour was done in complete silence. It was like being in a Trappist monastery.

She was also taken to a room where the triangles were. Prisoners were strapped to these triangles and either birched or lashed with the cat-o'-nine-tails. The cat-o'-nine-tails was kept in a drawer. The governor lifted it out for Rose to examine. "Doesn't look much, but it can inflict some damage."

Rose repressed a shudder and suggested they return to Harry.

He was just closing the books when they entered the governor's barrack-like office.

As he and Rose got into the Rolls, he said, "Jeremy Tremaine visited the prison on six occasions in the months before his sister's death. One of the prisoners he visited was Reg Bolton."

"I wonder what Jeremy will say when we ask him?"

"We? I thought of going myself with Becket tomorrow."

"You must take me with you! It was my idea."

"I suppose your parents will agree if we take Becket and Daisy."

Lady Polly was in a fury when they got back, demanding to know where they had gone, Rose without either her maid or companion. Rose took Harry's arm and smiled up at him. "Only for a little drive," she said. "We wanted to be alone."

Harry's heart gave a lurch and then he realized that, of course, she was acting.

Nonetheless, it took a great deal of persuading to get permission to go "for a little drive" with Harry the following day with just Becket and Daisy as chaperones.

But Lady Polly finally melted. She saw the way Rose smiled up at the captain and was sure her wayward daughter was in love at last.

They all set out the following morning in high spirits that even the damp mist clouding the day could not dim.

Daisy had won too much at cards to be angry with Rose for not having told her about Jeremy.

When they turned down Oxford High, the mist was hiding the spires and pinnacles of the colleges, and even the top of Cairfax Tower was lost to view.

Daisy and Becket were told to stay in the car while Rose and Harry made their way up the shallow stone steps to Jeremy's rooms.

"We're in luck," said Harry. "He's not sporting his oak."

"What does that mean?"

"These are double doors. If the outer door is closed, that's called sporting the oak and it means you're either out or do not want visitors."

Harry knocked and a faint voice called, "Enter."

Harry held open the door for Rose and followed her in. Jeremy was dressed in gown and mortar board.

"What do you want?" he demanded harshly. "I was just going out."

"You visited a certain Reg Bolton in Wormwood Scrubs on several occasions just before his release. He is the man who tried twice to kill Lady Rose."

"I visited him along with other prisoners. I was doing my duty, bringing Christian hope to the suffering."

"n.o.body seems to think of bringing Christian hope to the victims," said Rose.

"Don't you think it odd," pursued Harry, "that after your sister is murdered, a hired a.s.sa.s.sin called Reg Bolton tries to kill Lady Rose, a man you visited?"

Jeremy's face was wax-pale and his eyes burned with fury. "Get out of here," he shouted. "How dare dare you? You are accusing me of killing my own sister." you? You are accusing me of killing my own sister."

"You haven't heard the end of this," said Harry. "I am sure the police will want to interview you. Come, Rose."

"Well, I didn't expect to get a confession out of him," said Rose as they walked together across the quadrangle.

"No, the purpose was to rattle him and see if he betrays himself in any way."

Daisy and Becket sat in the front seat in sulky silence. Becket had sprung the idea on Daisy that maybe they could one day save enough to buy a little pub in the country. Daisy could work behind the bar. Daisy had said furiously that she was not going to sink to be a barmaid. Becket had called her a sn.o.b and said she had acquired ideas above her station.

Becket was driving, so Rose and Harry climbed into the back.

They went to the Randolph Hotel for luncheon. Daisy and Becket sat at a separate table, staring angrily at each other in dead silence.

"I think," said Harry, "that I should go to Scotland Yard on our return and tell Kerridge about these visits."

"Good idea. I shall come with you."

"I'm afraid not."

"Why?"

"It's a man's world. There are people at Scotland Yard who view my visits with disfavour. They feel Kerridge should not be wasting time with amateurs. The presence of even a beautiful lady like yourself diminishes me."

"That's not fair!"

"As I have just pointed out to you, it's man's world."

Now Rose was, like her companion, too furious to speak. Harry tried several times to talk about various things, but she sat glaring at him and refused to utter a word.

It was a carload of silent and sulky people who returned to London.

Harry went straight to Scotland Yard. Kerridge was out on a case, so he waited patiently while the mist thickened on the river Thames outside the window.

At last Kerridge returned and listened in surprise to Harry's story about Jeremy's prison visits.

"I'll pull him in for questioning."

"It won't do any good at the moment. All he has to do is look outraged. No one else is going to believe he had a hand in his sister's murder. I'd like to examine that house they rented for the Season."

"What do you expect to find? It'll have been scrubbed from top to bottom."

"There might just be something."

"All right. I'll come along with you."

"Are you sure the servants that were there at the time didn't hear or see anything?"

"With the exception of a temporary footman hired from an agency, the servants were all the country ones. I gather Apton Magna is a pretty poor place. They weren't going to say anything that might mean they'd lose their jobs."