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that they do not operate fairly. Blood ties may not always be close, but they are usually all that the law recognises.’
    She gave him a small, grateful smile for the fact that he had bothered to explain, and said, ‘I acknowledge that it must be so. The role of housekeeper may involve all manner of things, but it has few rights or privileges attached to it, once people have to reach for the rule books. I was—still am, I suppose—a paid employee. No doubt it is good for me to be reminded of that from time to time.’
    Lambert chose to pick up the fact she had hinted at rather than the resentment. ‘You are still paid to be here, Mrs Lewis?’
    ‘I have been paid my full salary without a break since Mr Craven’s death. I have stayed on in the house and made sure to the best of my ability that it has been kept in good order.’ She gave an involuntary glance of pride around the comfortable room, caught Bert Hook’s unblinking eye, and desisted immediately from such weakness. ‘The family have been most generous.’ It was impossible to tell from her pronunciation of the word whether any irony was intended. ‘I have tried to repay them by getting the house ready to sell.’ This time he was sure there was a little bitterness in the simple statement: he stored the thought away for future clarification.
    ‘You have lived here alone since the death of Edmund Craven?’
    ‘Quite alone, Superintendent.’ He wondered why she seemed anxious to assert this so definitely. He left a pause, hoping she would elaborate on her situation, but she said only, ‘If this is going to take a little time, perhaps you would care for a cup of tea or coffee.’
    To Hook’s consternation, Lambert refused the offer, on the grounds that it was not long since breakfast and that they had a crowded schedule to observe. He was obscurely aware that this interview was causing her more concern than she cared to reveal; he did not want to break its thread here. Margaret Lewis said abruptly, ‘How was Mr Craven killed?’
    Lambert had expected the question, but not quite so quickly. Normally he would have withheld the information. But she would know soon enough: his decision to employ a scene of crime team meant that there would be police officers swarming all over the house later in the day, looking for any evidence of arsenic and where it might have been kept over a period of months. And he wanted to study her reaction to the news—if news it was, he reminded himself automatically.
    ‘Edmund Craven was poisoned, Mrs Lewis. I’d be obliged if you’d keep that information to yourself for the time being.’
    The clear blue eyes widened, the full lips parted a little. She looked at the tall man opposite her, wondering what was going on beneath the dark hair with its flecks of grey. Perched on the very edge of the big armchair, she looked even more as if she was in the room on sufferance. But there was no revelatory outburst of the kind Lambert had hoped for. Indeed, she said nothing for a long moment, during which Hook chose to heighten the tension by switching to a new page of his notebook for the information he knew from experience he would be recording in the next few minutes. Then she said, in a voice low enough for them to have to strain after it in the quiet room, ‘Why wasn’t this discovered at the time?’
    ‘That, among other things, is what we shall have to find out in the course of our inquiries,’ said Lambert, almost as quietly.
    ‘Dr Carroll certified death was due to natural causes,’ she said dully.
    ‘I know. I shall be seeing him this afternoon. In the meantime, can you suggest any reason why he should have missed the real reason for death?’
    There was a small shrug of the slim shoulders under the mohair. ‘Edmund—Mr Craven—was a sick man. He’d had heart trouble for a number of years and been treated for it.’
    ‘Did he have a pacemaker?’
    ‘No. At the time, I thought that might have cost him his life. It