Marguerite liked picking the wings off flies. Walter would let her take him to pieces and then come back for more.

'There was one time that he didn't come back.

'Yes.

'What was the final row about, do you know?

'I don't think there was one. I think he just told her he was through. At least that is what he said at the inquest. Did you read the obituaries, by the way?

'I suppose I must have at the time. I don't remember them individually.

'If she had lived another ten years she would have got a tiny par in among the «ads» on the back page. As it was she got better notices than Duse. "A flame of genius has gone out and the world is the poorer." "She had the lightness of a blown leaf and the grace of a willow in the wind." That sort of thing. One was surprised that there were no black edges in the Press. The mourning was practically of national dimensions.

'It's a far cry from that to Liz Garrowby.

'Dear, nice Liz. If Marguerite Merriam was too bad even for Walter Whitmore, then Liz is too good for him. Much too good for him. I should be delighted if the beautiful young man took her from under his nose.

'Somehow I can't see your "beautiful young man" in the role of husband, whereas Walter will make a very good one.

'My good man, Walter will broadcast about it. All about their children, and the shelves he has put up in the pantry, and how the little woman's bulbs are coming along, and the frost patterns on the nursery window. She'd be much safer with-what did you say his name was?

'Searle. Leslie Searle. Absentmindedly he watched the pale yellow neon signature of Laurent's coming nearer.

'I don't think safe is the adjective I would apply to Searle, somehow, he said reflectively; and from that moment forgot all about Leslie Searle until the day when he was sent down to Salcott St Mary to search for the young man's body.

2

'Daylight! said Liz, coming out on to the pavement. 'Good clean daylight. She sniffed the afternoon air with pleasure. 'The car is round the corner in the square. Do you know London well, Mr-Mr Searle?

'I've been in England for holidays quite often, yes. Not often as early in the year as this, though.

'You haven't seen England at all unless you have seen it in the spring.

'So I've heard.

'Did you fly over?

'Just from Paris, like a good American. Paris is fine in the spring too.

'So I've heard, she said, returning his phrase and his tone. And then, finding the eye he turned on her intimidating, went on: 'Are you a journalist? Is that how you knew Cooney Wiggin?

'No, I'm in the same line as Cooney was.

'Press photography?

'Not Press. Just photography. I spend most of the winter on the Coast, doing people.

'The Coast?

'California. That keeps me on good terms with my bank manager. And the other half of the year I travel and photograph the things I want to photograph.

'It sounds a good sort of life, Liz said, as she unlocked the car door and got in.

'It's a very good life.

The car was a two-seater Rolls; a little old-fashioned in shape as Rolls cars, which last for ever, are apt to be. Liz explained it as they drove out of the square into the stream of the late afternoon traffic.

'The first thing Aunt Lavinia did when she made money was to buy herself a sable scarf. She had always thought a sable scarf the last word in good dressing.