“Yes, I see.”

“When did you arrive back at Leathers? I know about the cramp.”

Louis sat with his lightly clasped hands between his knees. Perhaps they tightened their grasp on each other; if so, that was his only movement.

“I?” he said. “I don’t know exactly. I suppose it would have been about three o’clock. I rode back by the shortest route. The cramp cleared up quite soon and I put on my boot and took most of it at an easy canter.”

“When you arrived was anybody about?”

“Not a soul. I unsaddled the hack and walked home.”

“Meeting anybody?”

“Meeting nobody.”

“Did you happen to look across the horse paddock to the hedge?”

Louis ran his hand down the back of his head.

“I simply don’t remember,” he said. “I suppose I might have. If I did there was nothing out-of-the-way to be seen.”

“No obvious break in the gap, for instance?”

He shook his head.

“No sign of the sorrel mare on the hillside?”

“Certainly not. But I really don’t think I looked in that direction.”

“I thought you might have been interested in young Bruno’s jump.”

“Young Bruno behaved like a clodhopper. No, I’m sorry. I’m no good to you, I’m afraid.”

“You know Miss Harkness, didn’t you?”

“She came to lunch one day at L’Espérance — on Ricky’s first visit, by the way. I suppose he told you.”

“Yes, he did. Apart from that?”

“Not to say ‘knew,’ ” Louis said. He seemed to examine this remark and hesitated as if about to qualify it. For a second one might have almost thought it had suggested some equivocation. “She came into the pub sometimes when I was there,” he said. “Once or twice, I wouldn’t remember. She wasn’t,” Louis said, “exactly calculated to snatch one’s breath away. Poor lady.”

“Did you meet her on a Thursday afternoon near the foot of a track going down the cliffs?”

The movement Louis made was like a reflex action, slight but involving his whole body and instantly repressed. It almost came as a shock to find him still sitting quietly on the bench.

“Good Lord!” he said, “I believe I did. How on earth did you know? Yes. Yes, it was an afternoon when I’d been for a walk along the bay. So I did.”

“Did you meet by appointment?”

That brought him to his feet. Against a background of sparkling harbor and cheerful sky he stood like an advertisement for men’s wear, leaning back easily against the seawall. An obliging handful of wind lifted his hair.

“Look here,” Louis said, “I don’t much like all this. Do you mind explaining?”

“Not a bit. Your note was in the pocket of her hacking jacket.”

“Damn,” said Louis quietly. He waited for a moment and then with a graceful, impetuous movement reseated himself by Alleyn.

“I wouldn’t have had this happen for the world,” he said.

“No?”

“On several counts. There’s Carlotta, first of all, and most of all. I mean, I know I’m a naughty boy sometimes and so does she but this is different. In the light of what’s happened. It’d be horrid for Carlotta.”

He waited for Alleyn to say something but Alleyn was silent.

“You do understand, I’m sure. I mean it was nothing. No question of any — attachment. You might say she simply happened to be damn good at one thing and made no bones about it. As was obvious to all. But — well, you’ll understand — I’d hate Carlotta to know. For it to come out. Under the circs.”

“It won’t unless it’s relevant.”

“Thank God for that. I don’t see how it possibly could be.”

“Was this meeting at the cliffs the first time?”

“I’m not sure — yes, I think it might have been.”

“Not according to the note. The note said ‘Usual time.’ ”

“All right, then. It wasn’t. I said I wasn’t sure.”

“One would have thought,” Alleyn said mildly, “you’d remember.”

“Basically the whole thing meant so little. I’ve tried to explain. It was nothing. Absolutely casual. It would have petered out, as you might say, without leaving a trace.”

“You’re sure of that?”

“What the hell do you mean?”

“She was pregnant.”

“If you’re trying to suggest—” Louis broke off. He had spoken loudly but now, after a quick look up at Ricky’s window stopped short. In the silence that followed Julia’s voice could be heard. Alleyn looked around and was in time to see her appear briefly at the closed window. She waved to them and then turned away. Ricky could be dimly seen in the background.

“There is absolutely no question of that,” Louis said. “You can dismiss any such notion.”

“Have you any theory on the parentage?”

For a moment or two he hesitated and then said that, “not to put too fine a point on it, it might be anybody.” By one of those quirks of foresight Alleyn knew what his next remark would be and out it came. “She was quite a girl,” Louis said.

“So I’ve been told,” said Alleyn.

Louis waited. “Is that all you wanted to see me about?” he asked at last.

“Pretty well, I think. We’d just like to be sure about any possible callers at Leathers during the day. A tidying-up process. Routine.”

“Yes, I see. I’m sorry if I didn’t take kindly to being grilled.”

“It was hardly that, I hope.”

“Well — you did trick me over that unlucky note, didn’t you?”

“You should see us when we get really nasty,” Alleyn said.

“It’s just because of Carlotta. You do understand?”

“I think so.”

“I suppose I’m pretty hopeless,” said Louis. “But still…” He stretched elaborately as if freeing himself from the situation. “Ricky seems to be enjoying the giddy pleasures of life in Deep Cove and la maison Ferrant,” he said. “I can’t imagine what he finds to do with himself when he’s not writing.”

“There’s been some talk of night fishing and assignations with his landlord in the early hours of the morning, but I don’t think anything’s come of it. Do you ever go in for that?”

Louis didn’t answer. It was as if for a split second he had become the victim of suspended animation, a “still” introduced into a motion picture with the smile unerased on his face. This hitch in time was momentary, so brief that it might have been an illusion. The smile broadened and he said: “Me? Not my scene, I’m afraid. Too keen on my creature comforts.”

He took out his cigarette case and filled it with a steady hand from a new packet. “Is there anything else?” he asked.

“Not that I can think of,” Alleyn said cheerfully. “I’m sorry I had to raise uncomfortable ghosts.”

“Oh,” Louis said, “I’ll survive. I wish I could have been more help.” He looked up at Ricky’s.window. “What’s all this we hear about him taking a plunge?”

Alleyn said it appeared that Ricky had slipped on the wet wharf, knocked his face against a gangway stanchion, and fallen in.

“He’s a pretty picture,” he said, “and loath to display himself.”

Louis said they’d soon see about that and with a sudden and uncomfortable display of high spirits, threw a handful of fine gravel at the window. Some of it miscarried and spattered on the front door. Ricky loomed up, empurpled and unwilling, behind the glass. Louis gestured for him to open the window and when he had done so shouted, “ ‘But soft, what light from yonder window breaks,’ ” in a stagey voice. Julia appeared beside Ricky and took his arm.

“Do pipe down, Louis,” she said. “You’re inflaming the populace.”

And indeed the populace in the shape of one doubled-up ancient-of-days on his way to the Cod-and-Bottle and three preschool-aged children had paused to gape at Louis. Two windows were opened. Mr. Mercer came out of his shop and went in again.

More dramatically, the front door of the Ferrants’ house was thrown wide and out stormed Mrs. Ferrant, screaming as she came: “Louis! Assez de bruit! What are you doing, Petit méchant!”

She came face to face with Louis Pharamond, stopped dead, and shut her mouth like a trap.