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lighter at night now, only a month ago it was already dark by six o’clock. When he passed the gate to The Herbage again the truck had gone and his remaining steps to the rectory door seemed a little lighter. He stepped out of the wind into the inviting warmth of the house and was surprised to find Jennifer was not on the computer but in the living room. She called out to him as he closed the door.
    “Simon?” Her voice trilled with suppressed excitement. “We have a visitor.”
    He shrugged off his coat and went in, setting his briefcase on the floor next to the armchair. The large gentleman sitting on the sofa next to his sister was none other than Robert Markhew himself, a trail of biscuit crumbs leading from his goatee to the treasure of a half-empty plate on the coffee table. He made to rise as Simon entered, pulling himself up with the aid of his stick, but Simon waved him down again.
    “No need to get up. We don’t stand on ceremony here.” He turned to Jennifer and bent to plant a kiss on her cheek. “Is there any tea left in that pot?”
    “It’ll have gone cold now.” She stretched upward for the chaste peck. “I can easily make up a fresh one for you, though.”
    Simon waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it.” He lowered himself into the easy chair and threw a leg jauntily over the arm. “Good to see you, Robert. To what do we owe the pleasure?”
    “I came to invite you to dinner one evening.” Robert held his chin with one hand, his thumb stroking the grey hairs of his beard and dislodging crumbs over his sports jacket. “All this business with Grace dying has got me thinking about the afterlife.”
    “Heaven, you mean?” Simon smiled. “I shall be delighted, of course. What day are we talking about?”
    “Would tomorrow suit you?” Robert asked. “I don’t know when Grace’s funeral is yet, but it shouldn’t be this soon, and I know you’re busy on Sundays, of course.”
    “Tomorrow will be fine.” Simon pulled out his pocket diary and wrote in the appointment. “Shall we say seven o’clock?”
    “Capital.” Robert heaved himself upright and turned to Jennifer. “You’re invited too, my dear, naturally.”
    “Thank you, Robert.” Jennifer smiled up at him. “Will Richard be present?”
    “Ah.” Robert hesitated. “I’m afraid not. He’s in London at present.”
    “Is he?” Simon stood to show his guest out. “I thought I saw him in the cemetery a day or two ago. He and Jean were leaving flowers on her late husband’s grave and chatting. They seemed to be quite close.”
    “You must be mistaken.” Robert made his way to the front door. “He’s been there all week, looking for work in the museums.”
    Simon shook his head. “My apologies.” He opened the door. “It must have been a trick of the light. We’ll see you tomorrow then. Seven o’clock sharp.”
     

 
    Chapter 7
     
    Nicole yelped as the hemp rope bit into her thigh. “I’m sorry, Sir.” She spoke through the two strands running vertically across her lips. “I don’t think I’ll be able to take this for long.”
    “As you wish.” Robert relaxed the cord, allowing her to lower her foot to the floor again. “Good girl for telling me before I went any further with this form of binding.” He felt her hands. “Are your fingers all right? They feel a little chilly.”
    “Fine, Sir, thank you.” Nicole shifted her weight to the other foot.
    “How about this?” Robert used a length of silk rope wrapped several times around her thigh as padding against the bite of the hemp.
    Nicole danced on one foot as her leg was hoisted in the air again. “Much…better, Sir.”
    Robert laughed. “Relax. You’re not going to fall. Most of your weight is supported by the karada I’ve worked around your torso. Lean back.”
    “I can’t.”
    “Trust me.” Robert forcibly bent her supporting leg until her weight was suspended by the network of hemp and jute attached to the hook in the ceiling. He