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Kate looked at him wearily. ‘I suppose by that you mean that you’ll converse and all I’ll have to do will be to say ‘Yes’ and ‘No’ in the correct places. Please go. I’ve got some soup and cheese and things which will do for me, you can get a meal in the village. I’ll still be here when you come tomorrow. Where could I run?’
    Slowly he shook his head, his expression enigmatic.
    I’m sorry, but I don’t trust you, Kate. As soon as my back was turned you’d be off. I have a sixth sense about people and it’s telling me that you’ve given in a little too easily. You have a car here somewhere and even if I immobilised it, you would walk, and carry the boy, if you had to. Any woman who would do what you did for your sister is a worthy opponent, and I treat worthy opponents with caution. No, Kate, I’ll share your soup and cheese and things, and then we’ll talk.’
    ‘I’m too tired to talk.’
    ‘Nervous reaction.’ Jerome Manfred sounded practical and implacable. ‘Where’s the soup?’
     

CHAPTER TWO
    Dinner, such as it was, was over. Kate had apologised sarcastically for the lack of caviare, porterhouse steak and asparagus tips, her tone biting and her air one of disdain. Jerome Manfred had spared her one cool glance.
    ‘I don’t care for caviare and I consider the omelette I made to be the equal of any steak,’ he observed flatteningly.
    Now Kate moved about the- kitchen, rinsing down the draining board, restoring crockery to the dresser and aware all the time of the big man seated comfortably by the fire, the smoke from his cigarette drifting up to the low rafters. Although he never looked her way, she was aware all the time of being watched. At the cutlery drawer she hesitated, her fingers closing round the wooden handle of the big carving knife. It fitted snugly into her palm and there was a comfortable and comforting feel about it, but it was too big for concealment. And where would it get her? she thought drearily. Only as far as the nearest gaol, and then Philip would go to his grandmother for certain. Besides, she wasn’t at all sure that she could do it. It would take a peculiar kind of courage or madness to stick a knife in somebody, and she didn’t think she had that sort of courage—and despite her months of hiding and worry, she wasn’t mad. Reluctantly she let her fingers slide from the smooth, well shaped wood.
    ‘You couldn’t do it.’
    Kate gasped and turned round swiftly. How could he know what she had been thinking?
    ‘Don’t be too sure.’ Food and a quiet half hour had restored some of her natural optimism and she spoke belligerently. ‘I did something once before, remember? I didn’t think I could do that either, but I did!’
    ‘But there was no blood.’ He was still calm. ‘You don’t like blood, Kate. You faint.’ He seemed filled with a cold sort of humour. ‘I know every little thing about you. Now, stop fiddling and sit down. It’s time we had our talk.’
    She sat down quietly, but her eyes flamed as she looked at him across the table and her voice dripped acid with every word. ‘You know. Of course you know! You’ve had your grubby little men investigating me. Pawing through my life with their dirty, curious fingers. Ugh!’
    There was a wry look about his mouth. ‘Shall I tell you, Kate? Yes, I think I will. You were a bonus and one I didn’t expect, but it often happens that way. I started out investigating your stepsister.’
    ‘You were investigating Shirley?’ Kate allowed the disgust she felt to become evident in her voice. ‘What was the matter? Didn’t you trust her either?’
    ‘Not completely.’ He was calm and factual. ‘I never did. Your little sister was an accomplished liar. After she went back to Theo, when Philip was nearly a year old, I trusted her even less. Too many of her stories were thin and they didn’t add up. According to her she was alone in the world and, to be blunt, I suspected that there was another