ongnor House seemed eerily silent as the two women climbed the stairs to Caroline's room on the top floor. Cordelia knocked. There was no reply, so they opened the door and entered. They had already agreed that if Caroline was not there they would wait for her. Lindsay walked over to the window and perched on the radiator beneath the wide sill. Cordelia sat on an upright chair by the desk, her legs propped against the waste-paper bin. They both studied the room as if seeing it for the first time, Lindsay checking off its features as she had not done when she was actually using it as a bedroom.

The basic furniture was institutional: a bed, table, chair, wardrobe, cupboard and chest of drawers. But Caroline's personal¬ity was everywhere. On the walls were a poster of Lenin, a large photograph of Virginia Woolf and a poster for a rally of peace women at Greenham Common. On the bookshelves were several textbooks. The rest of the space was taken up by dozens of books on politics, sociology and feminism. The table was untidy, but three things stood out. One was a desk calendar with photographs of sailing ships. But, as if by arrangement, both women's eyes reached out at the the same moment to the two framed photographs which were also on the desk. Cordelia picked them up. One was a family group, presumably consisting of Anthony Barrington, his ex-wife and their children. Caroline was between her parents, her brother and sister sitting on a sofa in front of them. The other was a photograph of the same man alone on top of a snow covered peak grinning into the camera. He was wearing climbing gear - old, stained clothes, heavy boots, ropes, a small rucksack. His face was lean and tanned, well-lined around the eyes. His eyebrows turned up slightly in the middle of his face, giving it a humorous cast. The rest of his face was unremarkable. But the eyes and their brows spoke of someone who might well be good fun to have around the place. No doubt Caroline thought so.

While Cordelia was studying the pictures more closely, the door opened and Caroline burst in, shouting over her shoulder, 'Not tonight, I've got too much work to do.' Cordelia started and almost dropped the pictures. Lindsay got to her feet as Caroline stopped in her tracks.

'Good Lord!' the girl exclaimed. 'Murderers and burglars in the same week. Altogether too much for me.'

In spite of herself, Lindsay smiled broadly. 'Not exactly, no,' she said. 'We wanted to be sure of seeing you and your door was open. I promise we haven't been reading your letters and sifting through your worldly goods.'

'Didn't for a minute think you had. Not that you'd find anything of interest if you did. I was just rather taken aback to find the super sleuths waiting to give me the third degree,' Caroline replied, throwing herself down on the bed.

Cordelia remarked to no one in particular. 'Good to see the old school grapevine is as efficient as it was in my day.'

'Oh, everyone knows what it is you're here for. Her Majesty announced it at assembly. I suppose you want to ask me about that bloody woman. I must say she caused enough trouble when she was alive without turning the world upside-down now she's dead. Really and truly, I think whoever put a stop to her should be congratu¬lated, not punished. Still, that's a pretty antediluvian view, isn't it? I must say, though, that I think it's very dim of the police to have arrested The Boss. I mean, there are some pretty primitive people around who might think that killing people is some sort of answer, but really, she's not that sort at all. Not at all, truly.' Caroline ground to a halt.

'The Boss?' queried Cordelia.

'Ooops! I mean Miss Callaghan,' Caroline replied, blushing furiously.

'Why the Boss?' Lindsay asked.

'Because she lets you know who's in charge, I suppose. Hey, I hope you don't imagine I might have had anything to do with the murder? I mean, everyone's always telling me how hopelessly indiscreet I am, and I suppose I have rather been shooting the old mouth off about the ghastly woman's death being rather a blessing in extremely thin disguise. But honestly, do I look like a murderer to you?'

Lindsay found herself laughing out loud at the idea. Caroline sprawled on her counterpane, the picture of injured innocence. 'Caroline,' said Lindsay, 'I can't honestly say that 1 think you're incapable of murder. But from what I've seen of you over the past week, I really have to say that if you had killed Lorna, you would have told the entire population of Derbyshire by now. If you're ever going to commit murder, you really must get laryngitis first.'

Caroline grinned enormously, and suddenly Lindsay was struck by her resemblance to her father. It was her attitude - a sense of joy in risk-taking, a devil-may-care attitude - and at that moment, Lindsay saw that Caroline might indeed have killed Lorna and have managed to keep her mouth firmly shut. What better disguise for discretion than a reputation for logorrhoea?

'Okay, so if you know I didn't do it, what do you want me to tell you? Shall I start with what I told the police?' asked Caroline eagerly. It was hard not to see her as some enormously good-natured but clumsy young bear-cub.

'Tell us first of anything that struck you as at all unusual at any time all day Saturday,' said Cordelia. Both women were conscious of the need not to waste the opportunity of a witness who seemed both talkative and observant.

'Well, the whole day was a bit funny, really. Miss Callaghan seemed a bit edgy, but I put that down to the general upheaval, plus she was responsible for both of you. Having a journalist on the loose about the place must have been a bit unnerving for everybody on the official side. I mean, only you know what you were going to say about us. You see, places like this are terribly insular, and being under constant attack from the forces of reason and equality make them even more on the defensive, you know? And then there was the business of Sarah Cartwright throwing a wobbler which upset more or less everybody - it threw Jacko into a perfect tail-spin and didn't exactly fill Miss Callaghan with good cheer.

'You were around, so I suppose you saw that carry-on. It was rather grisly, really. Sarah's a bit of a loner; I always get the feeling that she hasn't actually got much more to her life than this place, her father being so busy. I mean, my father is always up to his eyes in work, or climbing expeditions or whatever, but he always makes time to be with his children. It seems to me that Sarah's father puts work first - you know, if he's planned to take her off somewhere and work interferes, it's, "Tough luck, old girl, we'll make it another time." So although she doesn't really have close friends here, I suppose this place is more or less home to her. At least people are pretty impressed by her sporting ability.

'So of course, when those half-wits started to have a go at her it must have been pretty hellish. And, since Miss Callaghan is always frighteningly perceptive about what goes on inside our tiny heads, it's my guess that she must have been a bit upset on Sarah's account. All that would make her a bit iffy, wouldn't it?'

'Possibly,' Cordelia replied. 'Was she okay by the afternoon?'

'I don't know much about what went on then, because I was out with my father. I suppose you know all about him and that bloody woman by now?'

Cordelia said quickly. 'We know a bit. Suppose you tell us what really happened.'

'It's been the main event in our family over the last couple of years,' said Caroline, her normal machine-gun delivery slowing down. Tm not entirely clear how they met, but once my father got to know Lorna, he fell for her like the proverbial ton. He didn't say anything, but I think Mummy knew something was happening. Anyway, he decided that he didn't just want an affair, so he told Mummy he wanted a divorce. It was all extremely messy - and very painful for everyone because deep down, he loved us all really.

'When the whole sordid business of the divorce was over, he went to Lorna and asked her to marry him. He hadn't seen her for about a month because she'd been off touring in the Far East. She laughed in his face and told him not to be a fool, that she had no intention of marrying him. She didn't have the sense to see she was turning down the best man she'd ever meet. And he was devastated. Who wouldn't have been? I mean, he'd thrown his marriage away, torn up his own life and our lives too, and all for nothing.' She paused.

'I can forgive him,' she went on, 'because everyone has the right to make at least one almighty blunder in their lives, and after all, he's still a part of my world. But I could never forgive her because, if she hadn't fooled him into thinking she wanted him, he'd have just let it be a stupid affair and that would have been the end of it. But no. She had to destroy his life. So I'm not sorry that someone killed her. Not a bit sorry.' Lindsay detected a trembling in Caroline's voice as she finished her story.

'Was there any special reason why he came to see you on Saturday?' She asked, trying hard to avoid sounding eager.

'He was doing a bit of rock-climbing on Sunday down at Ham,' she explained. 'That's a limestone gorge about twenty miles from here. He said he'd come up early and take me out on Saturday afternoon. He often does that. I'm sure that's half the reason he sent me to Derbyshire House. The school he chose for my brother is in Perthshire, so he can get up in the mountains when he goes to see him. I sometimes think he loves the mountains and rocks more than anything else. Mountains, music, his family and his job. In that order, I suspect. But he gives so much to all of us, he's never made me feel that a moment spent with me is a moment he'd rather spend doing something else. I'm very, very fond of my father,' she added unnecessarily.

'How long did you spend with him on Saturday?' asked Cordelia.

'He picked me up at half-past two and we went for a walk in Chee Dale and Wye Dale. Then we went to have tea and he dropped me back here about a quarter to six. I told him about the concert, but he wouldn't come because she was here. I didn't expect him to. He said he'd send a cheque for the fund. He went off back to his hotel then, I suppose. He usually does. He has dinner, then sits in his room doing paperwork and listening to his Walkman.'

'Do you know where he was staying?' Lindsay chimed in.

'I think he was at the Anglers' Retreat, in Thorpe Dale. That's where he usually stays. Anyway, I came back here, had dinner, and then it was time for the concert.'

'And you didn't see him again on Saturday night?'

'No, how could I have?'

'Have you told the police any of this?' asked Cordelia cautiously.

They didn't ask about anything except the concert. I suppose I was a bit nervy about them thinking my father might perhaps have had something to do with it. They don't know him like I do, after all. Should I have told them do you think? Could it help Miss Callaghan?'

'I doubt it would have meant anything to them, Caroline. Don't worry on that account. Can you tell us what you remember about the rest of the evening?'

'Well, after dinner I went straight to the hall and collected a load of programmes from the music storeroom. I didn't see anyone around who shouldn't have been there, I'm afraid. I went back later for some more programmes, and went to the loo as well. But I wasn't paying too much attention; it was pretty chaotic except for the actual corridor down to Music 2, because the only people going down there were the people selling programmes. Jess Bennett turned up in the hall at one point looking for Miss Callaghan and I sent her backstage because I'd noticed Miss Callaghan there when I came out of the loo, ticking off one of the choir for the state of her hair. That's about all I remember.

'It's pretty frightening, really, isn't it? I mean, it's got to have been someone who knew the place well, hasn't it? And that more or less means someone we all, or at least some of us, know.' Caroline dried up finally. She suddenly looked very young.

'I'm inclined to think so,' said Lindsay. Tell me, did you see Sarah Cartwright or her father at all on Saturday after the business at the craft fair?'

Caroline thought for a moment. 'I didn't see him,' she said positively. 'He certainly wasn't at the concert. As for Sarah - I plodded along to her room when I got back from tea, just to see if she felt like coming in for dinner and wanted a bit of moral support. I knocked at her door, but there was no reply. I tried the handle, but the door was locked. I just assumed she was either asleep or not in the mood for company, so I buzzed off again.'

Lindsay reckoned there wasn't much more they could hope to find out from Caroline, so she flicked a glance at Cordelia, got to her feet and said, Thanks for being so honest with us. If you fancy a chat about anything. I expect we'll be sticking around for a few days. Okay?'

Cordelia's mouth twisted into a sardonic smile as she followed her friend on to the landing and she said drily, The working-class hero never gives up the struggle, does she?'

By now Lindsay was beginning to take Cordelia's mockery in her stride. It forced her to keep her wits about her. So she replied mildly, This place is so well defended that you can't expect me to ignore a chink in the armour. Now: do you want a conference, or shall we go straight on to see Sarah Cartwright? We should get her out of the way, I suppose.'

Cordelia shrugged. 'I haven't anything to say that won't keep. No flash of genius that will vanish for ever if I don't give it shape and form immediately. Let's see her and have done for today. Then we can go and have dinner somewhere and sort out what we've got so far.'

That should see us through the aperitifs,' said Lindsay wryly. 'Now, where do we find her?'

'It's just down the corridor here. I checked with Paddy's list.' Cordelia led the way to Sarah's room and knocked. After a short pause a low voice invited them in.

Sarah Cartwright's room was furnished exactly as Caroline's, and had a splendid view of the trees that cut Longnor House off from the bleak moorland behind. But there were few of the personal touches that made Caroline's room so individual. The walls were bare except for a large black and white framed photograph of a gymnast on the beam who Cordelia identified as Nelli Kim, the Russian Olympic medalist. The books were all school textbooks except for several on gymnastics, and the desk was almost pathologically neat. On it there was one small framed weddin* photo. The man was clearly a younger version of James Cartwright. Lindsay assumed the dark-haired, vivacious-looking woman by his side was Sarah's mother.

The girl was sitting cross-legged on her bed reading a newspaper. As they entered, she folded it carefully and put it down. She had dark brown hair cut short and neat with a straight, heavy fringe, contrasting with pale skin untouched by the ravages of adolescence. She had an air of extreme self-possession, but her dark eyes were watchful. Unlike her father, she seemed prepared to let other people make the running. She looked inquiringly at them.

Lindsay felt instantly uncomfortable, as if she were an unwel¬come intruder on someone else's private territory. Tm sorry to butt in on you,' she said, 'but I wondered if perhaps you could help us.' Sarah said nothing. Lindsay glanced at Cordelia in a mute appeal for help.

Cordelia took up the hard job of communication. 'Miss Overton has asked us to see if we can uncover anything that might establish Miss Callaghan's innocence. We've been talking to a lot of people in the hope that they might be able to come up with something to help and, basically, you're next on the list.'

'I know all about you,' said Sarah. Not surprisingly, there was nothing of the local accent in her tones. She might never have been north of Ascot. 'You've been to see my father. How absurd of you to think he could have anything to do with this. I don't know what you think I could tell you either. I was here all the time on Saturday. I saw no one apart from Miss Callaghan. She came over at tea-time with some sandwiches and fruit for me. Anyone else who knocked I just ignored. There was no one I wanted to see. Except possibly my father, but he wasn't here.'

'You must have been very upset by what happened in the morning,' Cordelia probed.

The girl acknowledged this sally with raised eyebrows. 'Of course I was. It's not terribly thrilling to have people attacking you because of something your father is quite properly doing in the course of his business. Especially when you're supposedly among friends. All the same, it was quite a useful experience in one sense. It's helpful to know who your real friends are.'

'Like Caroline Barrington?' asked Lindsay quickly.

'Why her in particular?'

'Well, she did call round to see if you felt like going to dinner.'

'Did she? I don't remember. One or two people came by. As I said, there was no one I wanted to see. I locked the door and only let Miss Callaghan in because I felt it might be rather more trouble not to.' The girl's hostility was now becoming palpable.

'So you neither saw nor heard anything that might have any bearing on Lorna Smith-Couper's murder?'

'Correct. Now, if that's all, I have things to do. I was about to go down to the gym to run through some floor work before you arrived. Do you mind if I get on with that now?'

'If you don't mind, there are a couple more questions I'd like to ask,' said Lindsay pleasantly.

The girl's eyebrows flickered and she threw a look of contempt at Lindsay. 'If you've time to waste, go ahead and ask.'

'You told the police that Miss Callaghan took you to Music 2 on Saturday morning?'

'Correct. I told them that because that's exactly what she did.'

'Any idea why she took you there?'

'She was trying to be helpful. I was very upset, as I'm sure you understand. Miss Callaghan had the sense to see that the best thing for me was to be somewhere quiet till I felt all right again. She said, "Let's go to Music 2 because I'm sure it will be empty. It's been spruced up for our celebrity guest, so no one will be using it today." '

Lindsay's eyes bored into the girl. 'Are you sure she said that the room had been set aside for Lorna?'

'Yes, I'm sure.'

'Miss Callaghan doesn't remember anything of the sort.'

'I'm sorry about that. But it doesn't alter the fact that she said it.'

'You also told the police that Miss Callaghan had been opening cupboards in the room and picking stuff up. You're still sticking to that, are you? Because Miss Callaghan has no recollection of that happening either.'

Sarah's eyes flashed as she replied angrily, 'Yes, I'm still sticking to the truth. Why should I lie, for God's sake? I like Miss Callaghan.'

'I can think of several reasons why you might be telling less than the truth.' Lindsay paused, but Sarah refused to take up the challenge. Lindsay shook her head sorrowfully and said, 'Sorry We've been such a nuisance, I hope we haven't put you off your exercises.' Then she turned and walked out, followed by Cordelia. She marched down the stairs in a state of frustrated fury then suddenly saw the funny side and whirled round on Cordelia with a grin, saying, 'There is something about me that seems to get right up the Cartwrights' noses. I can't have gone to the right school.'

Cordelia dissolved into a violent fit of giggles, much to the amazement of a couple of sixth-formers who passed by as the two women staggered into Paddy's room.