Читать книгу Invisible Weapons - John Rhode, John Rhode - Страница 9

During the journey Jimmy began to piece together the facts which he had learnt.

The first thing to be established was the time at which the crime had been committed. Linton’s presence in the consulting-room had been very helpful here. It was reasonable to suppose that the noise which he had heard and had supposed to have originated in the kitchen had been, in fact, the sound of Mr Fransham’s body falling in the cloakroom. He had looked at his watch immediately after this and had found the time to be seven minutes past one. Again, Linton’s observations had fixed the time of the doctor’s return at 1.12 p.m.

Next, disregarding for the moment the nature of the object with which the blow had been struck, the murderer must have stood in the carriage-way in order to commit his crime. This fact was established by the presence of the brick wall. Therefore, Coates’ statement that nobody could have entered the carriage-way without his knowledge must be set aside as unreliable.

This involved the consideration of a question which Jimmy had already asked himself. Could the chauffeur himself have been the criminal? The relations which had existed between him and his master had not yet been inquired into. It might be discovered that he had some grudge against Mr Fransham. On the other hand, there was Linton’s presence to be considered. He had been in the consulting-room, the window of which overlooked the garage. Could Coates have taken the turn-cock from its nail, struck his employer with it, returned to the garage and cleaned the key, all without Linton having observed him?

It seemed hardly likely, and yet the possibility remained. There was no reason to doubt Linton’s good faith; only the exact accuracy of his statement. Was he looking out of the consulting-room window all the time? His attention must have been diverted at intervals. While he was listening to the sounds within the house, or drinking his beer, for instance? People were so apt to say, ‘I never took my eyes off so and so for an instant.’ Whereas, in fact, they had only looked at it at more or less frequent intervals.

Failing Coates, was it possible to assume the guilt of some unknown person, X? Coates’ statement must in any case be discounted. Someone must have entered the carriage-way and it might as well have been X as anybody else. But X must have entered by the drive gate and departed by the same route. Was it likely that he would have risked doing so in full view of the windows in front of the house? Dr Thornborough had stated that he had seen Alfie Prince crossing the road very shortly after the crime had been committed. Jimmy decided that one of his first moves on his return to Adderminster should be to interview Alfie.

Finally, there remained the doctor himself. Jimmy had not been altogether satisfied with the superintendent’s reasoning. It had seemed to him that Yateley’s conclusions had been based upon insufficient data and that he had closed his mind to any other possibility. But as a result of his own observations he was bound to admit that things looked pretty black against Dr Thornborough. The most plausible theory that Jimmy could evolve pointed to him as the culprit. He had taken the turn-cock with him in the car when he started on his rounds. On his return, he had stopped outside the cloakroom window and delivered the fatal blow. He had left the turn-cock in the car and in the course of the afternoon had seized an opportunity of cleaning it and putting it back in its place.

Jimmy was still pondering the fact when his train reached London. He took a taxi to Scotland Yard, where he handed over the turn-cock for expert examination. He had half-hoped to find Hanslet in his room, but by now it was nearly ten o’clock and the superintendent, not being on duty, had gone home. Jimmy went home to his quarters and after a restless night caught the first train to Adderminster on Sunday morning.

When he got to the police station he found Sergeant Cload in charge. ‘Good-morning, sergeant,’ he said. ‘Any fresh developments since I’ve been away?’

‘Nothing very much, sir,’ Cload replied. ‘The body’s been brought down to the mortuary and it’s lying there now. The super’s given orders that a man is to remain on duty at the doctor’s house until further orders. I think that’s about all, sir, except that we’ve got Alfie Prince locked up in the cells here. I don’t know what we’re going to do with that chap, I’m sure.’

‘What’s he been up to now?’ Jimmy asked.

‘Stealing an overcoat, sir. It was like this. Just after you left last night, Linton was on his way up to the doctor’s house to relieve me. On his way up there he passed Alfie and noticed that he was wearing a brand-new overcoat. He thought that was a bit queer, for Alfie’s never been seen in such a thing before. So he jumped off his bike and asked Alfie where the coat came from and Alfie told him that he’s just found it.’

Jimmy smiled. ‘Not a very likely story,’ he said.

‘So Linton thought, sir. So he brought Alfie back here, took off his coat and had a look at it. He found a label sewn on to it with the name of Murphy’s, the outfitters in Middle Street. They usually have a row of coats hung up outside the shop in fine weather, especially on Saturday evenings. So Linton took the coat round to Murphy and asked him if he’d sold it to Alfie. He said that he hadn’t but that he’d just missed one from the row. So Linton charged Alfie and the super said we’d better put him in the cells till Monday morning.’

‘Did Alfie make any further statement?’

‘Well yes, he did, sir, but he talks in such a rambling way that you can hardly understand him. He said it was quite true that he’d found the coat for he’d seen it hanging up in Middle Street and taken it. When he was asked why he had taken the coat, he said because he wanted a new one as he had sold his old one the night before for half a crown and a packet of fags. Of course, that was nonsense, for you never saw anything so filthy and ragged as his old coat in your life. Nobody would have given him twopence for it, let alone half a crown. But that’s just like Alfie. He’s not quite right, as I’ve said all along.’

‘What’s his job when he feels like doing a spot of work?’

‘He’ll take anything that comes along, sir. He used to work as a bricklayer’s labourer at one time, and got on very well, I’ve been told. But he wouldn’t stick to it, and since then he’s picked up jobs here and there just as suited him. There are plenty in the town who are glad to give him work from time to time, for he puts his back into it while the fit’s on him.’

‘There’s no objection to my asking him a few questions, I suppose?’

‘None at all, sir. But whether you’ll be able to make any sense of what he tells you is another thing. I’ll bring him along in here, if you like, sir.’

Cload went off in the direction of the cells, to reappear a few minutes later with the errant Alfie. The latter was a man of middle height, apparently in the early forties, with a round and rather childlike face. Beneath a tangled shock of red hair was a pair of deep-set blue eyes which seemed to be inhabited by some demon of restlessness. Without invitation he sat down in the nearest chair and scrutinised Jimmy keenly.

‘You don’t come from these parts, master,’ he said confidently.

‘All right, let him be, sergeant,’ said Jimmy. ‘No, I don’t, Alfie, you’re quite right. But I dare say we shall manage to get on all right together in spite of that. Have a cigarette?’

Alfie took the proffered case, emptied it into his hand, and put all the cigarettes but one into the pocket of his tattered coat. ‘I knew you was a gentleman as soon as I set eyes on you,’ he said complacently. ‘And the sergeant, who’s another, will give me a match, I dare say.’

The sergeant having provided the necessary light, Jimmy began his interrogation. ‘Tell us the story of your old coat, Alfie,’ he said encouragingly.

Alfie chuckled as though at the memory of some pleasant interlude. ‘Ah, he was a good one in his time, he was,’ he said. ‘For nigh on twenty years I’d worn him, wet or fine, rain or sun. But all things come to an end, as my old mother says. He was getting as full of holes as a length of rabbit netting, and that’s a fact.’

‘So you thought it time to get rid of him?’ Jimmy suggested.

‘Well, maybe I wouldn’t have parted with him just yet. He’d been a good friend to me, master. But I wanted a fag that badly that I’d have given the cove the very boots off my feet for one.’

‘Who was this cove and where did you meet him?’

‘The night afore last it was. I was walking along down by Weaver’s Bridge and it must have been after hours, because the Shant was closed and I couldn’t get anybody to open the door to me.’

‘Weaver’s Bridge is outside the town, sir,’ Cload explained. ‘It’s about a mile and a half round by the road but rather less if you go up Gunthorpe Road and cut through Mark Farm. There’s a beerhouse there which is always known as the Shant, though its proper name is The Prince of Wales, and closing time in this division is half-past ten, at this time of year, sir.’

Jimmy nodded. ‘Carry on, Alfie,’ he said. ‘You were taking an evening stroll round about Weaver’s Bridge. Is that when you met the cove?’

‘That’s how it was. He comes along towards me smoking a fag, so I says to him, “Good-evening, merry chum,” just like that. “Good-evening, merry chum, it’d be a fine bright night if the moon hadn’t gone to bed with his wife. And perhaps you’ve got a fag or two to spare for a poor man who’s got four little kiddies and not a crust among them.”’

‘And what did the cove say to that?’ Jimmy asked.

Again Alfie chuckled. ‘He didn’t say nothing, and that was the joke of it. Maybe I’d startled him a bit, for it was main dark and he couldn’t see me under the shadow of the hedge, like. He takes one of them dratted flashlamp things out of his pocket and turns it on to me. “Oh it’s you, Alfie, is it?” he says.’

‘He knew you, then?’

The reply displayed the pride of a famous man. ‘There aren’t many folk in these parts who don’t know Alfie Prince.’

‘And did you know him?’

‘How should I know him in the dark? “I’ll give you a packet of fags, Alfie,” he said. “But I want that old coat of yours in exchange, and I’ll give you half a crown into the bargain.” And that’s how it happened, as true as there are angels playing on their harps up above us. The cove went off a-humming of a tune and wearing my old coat, and that’s the last I’ve seen of him.’

‘What did you do then, Alfie?’

‘Why, I got the fags, and funny-tasting things they was. So I come through Farmer Hawkworth’s land and settled down for the night in that field of grass at the end of Gunthorpe Road.’

‘You mean the field that’s for sale in building plots, I suppose?’

‘That’s it. I know of a corner alongside that brick wall at the end. But I missed my old coat, for all that I got them fags and half a crown in my pocket.’

Jimmy nodded to Cload, who thereupon escorted Alfie back to the cell. ‘What did you make of him, sir?’ the sergeant asked on his return.

‘I agree with you that he’s not quite all there. You can tell that by the way he talks. But I’m pretty certain that he didn’t invent that story about his old coat. It’s too circumstantial for that. I’d very much like to know who it was that he met and why he wanted Alfie’s old coat. You know Colonel Exbury pretty well, I expect?’

‘Oh yes, sir, I’ve always got on very well with the colonel.’

‘Then I wish you’d ring him up and ask him if Alfie was wearing his old coat when he came to his house yesterday.’

Cload put the call through and reported the result. ‘The colonel says that Alfie wasn’t wearing the coat, sir. He noticed that particularly for he’d never seen him without it before.’

‘Then Alfie’s story may be true. If so, he spent Friday night within a few yards of the doctor’s house. He said something about his mother. Is she still alive?’

‘Oh yes, sir. She’s a very respectable woman who keeps a little ham and beef shop in Middle Street. Alfie lodges with her when it suits him, but as often as not he sleeps out somewhere, especially in the summer.’

‘She might be able to tell us something about Alfie’s movements on Friday and Saturday. Better get one of your men to go and have a chat with her, sergeant. Linton was on duty last night up at the doctor’s house, wasn’t he?’

‘That’s right, sir. He was relieved by one of the other chaps this morning.’

‘Then he won’t come to the surface again until this afternoon. I’m going up Gunthorpe Road to have a look round, and I’ll be back here before lunch time.’

Jimmy left the police station and went to the doctor’s house. But he did not enter the gate, merely glancing down the carriage-way, noticing that the garage doors were shut and that no car stood in front of them. Then he went on for a few yards until he reached a convenient gap in the hedge bordering the building plot. He passed through this to find himself in a field of standing grass. It was immediately obvious to him that he was not the first to pass that way. The tall grass was trodden down into a track which led along the inside of the hedge until it reached the wall, on the other side of of which was the doctor’s carriage-way. And at the end of this track, in the corner formed by the hedge and the wall, lay a discarded garment. And at the sight of it Jimmy came to a sudden stand. It was a very old army greatcoat, easily recognisable as such, though it was stained and rent in countless places.

Very gingerly Jimmy picked it up. Beneath it lay five cigarette ends which Jimmy collected, packed in a piece of paper, and put in his pocket. Then he noticed a second track at right angles to the first, running along the inside of the wall. He followed this track to find that it ended abruptly fifty-three paces from the hedge.

He returned to the point where he had found the coat, laid it down, and left the field by the gap in the hedge. Then he walked to the drive gate of the doctor’s house and paced fifty-three yards down the carriage-way. The end of this fifty-third pace brought him exactly opposite the cloakroom window.

There must be some significance in the fact that the track in the field terminated exactly level with the window. Could the criminal have used this means of approach? Jimmy had already satisfied himself that Mr Fransham could not have been attacked from the top of the wall. But could his assailant have climbed the wall and dropped into the carriage-way? Such a feat would not have been beyond the powers of an exceptionally active man. But surely Coates, however much his attention might have been distracted at the moment, would have heard or seen something of this performance?

Jimmy began to examine the wall to see if it contained any crevices which might have afforded foothold. But the wall was comparatively new, and the pointing was still almost perfect. It was a nine inch wall, built in English bond with alternate headers and stretchers. And, as Jimmy scrutinised its surface, he noticed that round one of the headers the texture of the mortar was slightly different from elsewhere. He applied his finger to the place, and found that the surface yielded to his touch. A little further investigation proved that the joint was not made of mortar at all, but of plasticine. Jimmy pressed his hand against the header, which immediately slid back.

He left it at that, and hurried back through the gap in the hedge to the farther side of the wall. Here he found one of the bricks protruding an inch or so. It was an easy matter to grasp it and pull it right out. He bent down and looked through the hole thus formed in the wall. Its line of vision passed horizontally through the opening of the window into the cloakroom beyond. When Mr Fransham bent down over the basin, the top of his head must have been exactly in front of the hole.

Jimmy very soon satisfied himself of the way in which the brick had been removed. The mortar round it had been patiently scraped away, probably by some instrument in the nature of a long screwdriver. A few particles of this mortar lay at the foot of the wall among the roots of the grass. The brick had then been taken out and the walls of the cavity scraped smooth. But if the brick had then been reinserted, the absence of the mortar would have left a space all round it, which would have been noticed at once. An ingenious method had been adopted to get over this. The brick had been carefully wrapped in several thicknesses of gummed paper until it exactly fitted the cavity. The ends of this paper had then been masked with plasticine, coloured so as to match the mortar exactly. Upon replacement of the brick no visible sign remained of the wall having been tampered with.

Jimmy examined the paper in which the brick had been wrapped. He saw at once that it consisted of sheets of some periodical. On removing one or two layers, he found a sheet upon which the name of the periodical appeared. It was the British Medical Journal of the preceding May 22.

He put the brick back very carefully in its place. Then he picked up the army greatcoat and made his way back with it to the police station.

Sergeant Cload’s face stiffened as he caught sight of his burden. ‘Wherever did you find that, sir, if I may ask?’ he exclaimed.

‘In the very spot where Alfie says he spent last Friday night,’ Jimmy replied. ‘Bring him along here again for a minute, will you?’

Alfie reappeared and Jimmy held the coat up before his eyes. ‘Did you ever see this before, Alfie?’ he asked.

Alfie’s eyes opened wide in amazement. ‘Why glory hallelujah! If it isn’t my old coat come back to find me,’ he exclaimed. Then he frowned suspiciously. ‘You must be the cove that took it off me,’ he said with an air of finality.

‘Wrong this time, Alfie,’ Jimmy replied. ‘All right, sergeant, take him away.’

By the time that Cload returned, Jimmy was busy drawing a plan in his notebook. He looked up and grinned cheerfully at the sergeant. ‘Jolly case, this,’ he said. ‘It’s absolutely brimful of contradictions. To begin with, how did Alfie’s coat find its way to the corner where its original possessor spent Friday night?’

Cload shook his head. ‘You can’t take any heed of what Alfie says when he’s like this, sir,’ he replied. ‘I wouldn’t go so far as to say that he was deliberately lying when he told us that story just now. He may honestly have believed that those things had really happened, whereas he had only imagined or dreamt them.’

‘Wait a minute,’ said Jimmy, taking the paper containing the cigarette ends from his pocket. ‘I found these lying on the grass under Alfie’s coat just now. Alfie can’t have enjoyed them very much, for in nearly every case he’s left an inch of stump. And if you look closely at them, sergeant, you can see the name of the brand printed on them. Black’s Russian Blend.’

‘Yes, I can see that plain enough, sir,’ Cload replied. ‘But I don’t know that I’ve ever heard of them before.’

‘That’s very likely, for they aren’t sold everywhere. You can only get them at one of Black’s shops in London. It seems to me that those cigarette ends to some extent confirm Alfie’s story of the cove he met.’

Cload looked a trifle dubious. ‘When Alfie’s in these moods, he’ll ask anybody he meets for fags. And it doesn’t follow that whoever gave him these asked for his coat in exchange.’

‘It doesn’t follow, certainly. Your theory, I take it, is that Alfie, following his usual habit, accosted some worthy citizen of Adderminster and was given the cigarettes of which these are the ends.’

‘That’s about it, sir. I don’t somehow believe in the man with the flashlamp who bought Alfie’s coat. Whoever could want such a filthy old thing as that?’

‘Ah, that’s just it! But do you know anybody in Adderminster who smokes Black’s Russian Blend?’

‘I can’t say that I do, sir, but that doesn’t count for much. There are plenty of people in Adderminster who go up to London three and four times a week. There’s nothing to prevent any of them from buying these cigarettes at one of the shops you speak of, sir.’

‘I wonder if Dr Thornborough smokes them?’

Cload shook his head. ‘The doctor only smokes a pipe, sir. I’ve heard him say more than once that cigarettes always make him cough.’

Jimmy glanced at the clock. ‘It’s a quarter to one now,’ he said. ‘If I walk up to Epidaurus, I ought to catch the doctor as he comes home to lunch.’

When Jimmy reached the house, Lucy informed him that the doctor had already returned, and showed him into the consulting-room. Here, a minute later, Dr Thornborough joined him. He looked very careworn, and it was easy to tell that the events of the last twenty-four hours had played havoc with his nerves.

‘Well, inspector?’ he demanded curtly. ‘What’s your business?’

‘My business is concerned with Alfie Prince, doctor,’ replied Jimmy quietly.

Dr Thornborough had clearly expected a very different answer. ‘Alfie Prince!’ he said, wearily passing his hand across his forehead. ‘I’d forgotten all about him. You must excuse me, but this terrible affair has shaken me up pretty badly. What do you want me to do about Alfie Prince?’

‘Nothing, just now, doctor. Alfie’s out of mischief for the moment in one of the cells at the police station. You saw him yesterday on your way home to luncheon, didn’t you?’

‘Not to speak to. He merely happened to cross the road in front of me.’

‘How far away from you was he when you saw him?’

‘Oh, a couple of hundred yards, I dare say. Certainly not less.’

‘Did you notice him particularly?’

‘I can’t say that I did. Seeing that it was Alfie, I didn’t take any further notice of him,’

‘Were you surprised to find him wandering about up here?’

Dr Thornborough smiled a trifle wanly. ‘Nobody in Adderminster is ever very much surprised at what Alfie does. Besides, he’s a sufferer from claustrophobia, and I happen to know that sometimes he spends his nights in the field adjoining this house.’

‘Do you happen to know whether he spent last Friday night there?’

‘I don’t, for I never look to see whether he’s there or not. Officially I know nothing about it, for I suppose that technically he’s trespassing. But he isn’t doing any harm, and from the medical point of view it’s better for him to sleep out than in.’

‘He was coming out of that field when you saw him, wasn’t he?’

‘Yes. He crossed the road into the orchard opposite, and I didn’t see any more of him after that.’

‘You’re perfectly certain that the man you saw was Alfie?’

‘Oh, anyone who knew him would recognise him a mile away. He always wears a filthy old army greatcoat, so ragged that it’s literally dropping off him. And as soon as I caught sight of that coat I knew it must be Alfie.’

‘Where were you coming from when you saw him, doctor?’

‘I’d been to Mark Farm. Mrs Hawksworth, the farmer’s wife is one of my patients. I’d been to Weaver’s Bridge and I drove up to the farm from that direction. I was there about a quarter of an hour, I dare say, and then I came home through the gate at the end of the road.’

‘Did you see anybody else besides Alfie?’

‘Not a soul. It’s a dead end, you know, unless you happen to be going to Mark Farm.’

‘Do you happen to know the tenant of the cottage on the other side of the road?’

‘I can’t say that I know him, but he came here to see me about three weeks ago. He cut his thumb rather badly, chopping wood. I bound it up for him, and wrote him out a prescription for a salve. He told me that his name was Willingdon, and that he only came down here for the weekends. I thought he seemed quite a decent young fellow.’

‘I hope I’m not taking up too much of your time, doctor,’ said Jimmy. ‘I’d like to ask you one or two more questions and then I’ve finished. By the way, do you mind if I smoke?’

‘Not a bit,’ replied Dr Thornborough heartily. ‘I’m afraid I can’t offer you a cigarette though, for I never smoke the things myself.’

‘Oh that’s all right, I always carry my own,’ said Jimmy. He produced his cigarette case, opened it and suddenly looked blank. ‘Blest if it isn’t empty!’ he exclaimed. ‘I must have forgotten to fill it.’

‘You cigarette smokers are always doing that,’ the doctor replied. ‘Wait a minute, there are plenty of cigarettes in the drawing-room. I’ll go and get you one.’

Dr Thornborough left the room, to return a few moments later with a silver box which he held out towards Jimmy. ‘Here you are,’ he said. ‘They’re my wife’s. I don’t know whether you’ll care about them.’

Jimmy took one of the cigarettes and lighted it. ‘Black’s Russian Blend, I see,’ he said. ‘I used to have a fancy for them myself at one time. Does Mrs Thornborough always smoke them?’

‘No, she smokes Player’s as a rule. But her uncle, Mr Fransham, sent her a hundred of these last week. I don’t think she cares about them much, though.’

‘They’re an acquired taste. By the way, doctor, why did you have a brick wall built on one side of your property and not the other?’

Dr Thornborough, as well he might, looked slightly astonished at this question.

‘The reason’s a very simple one,’ he replied. ‘On one side of the house, as you may have noticed, are the public gardens. They will never be built upon. But the land on the other side is for sale in building plots. Sooner or later somebody will put up a house there. Hence the wall, which I had put up in order to avoid being overlooked.’

Jimmy smiled. ‘I might have thought of that for myself,’ he said. ‘There’s just one thing I’d like to mention, doctor. It might be advisable for Mr Fransham’s solicitor to be present at the inquest tomorrow.’

‘The same thing occurred to me. I got on the telephone to him yesterday afternoon, and explained what had happened. He promised to come down by the afternoon train today, and should be here about half-past four. Have you formed any opinion as to how this terrible thing can have happened?’

‘I’ve hardly had time for that yet, doctor. Is Coates, Mr Fransham’s chauffeur, still here?’

‘I sent him down with Fransham’s car to the Red Lion. And told him to stay there till further orders.’

‘That’s just as well, for his evidence will probably be wanted at the inquest. Do you happen to take the British Medical Journal, doctor?’

‘Yes, I do. There’s this week’s issue lying on the table in front of you.’

‘I wonder if you could find me the issue of May 22? There’s an article in that number which I’m particularly anxious to read. We policemen have to try and keep abreast of certain branches of medical knowledge, you know.’

Dr Thornborough went to a bookshelf upon which lay a pile of back numbers. He ran through these twice without finding the one which Jimmy had asked for.

‘That’s queer,’ he said. ‘That particular number must have got mislaid. But I’ll have a hunt for it and send it along to you when I find it.’

‘Oh, please don’t trouble. I’ve wasted enough of your time as it is.’

Jimmy left the house, being escorted to the front door by the doctor. He then crossed the road and knocked at the door of the cottage, which stood by itself in a small garden surrounded by trees. After a few minutes the door was opened by a noticeably pale young man, wearing a tennis shirt and a pair of grey flannel trousers, who remained in the dark background of the hall, from which he peered at his visitor disapprovingly. ‘This isn’t my at home day, you know,’ he said.

‘I hoped it might have been,’ Jimmy replied. ‘Are you Mr Willingdon?’

‘Such is my ancestral name. My godfathers and godmothers in my baptism christened me Francis. To the denizens of the low haunts which I frequent I am known as Frank. And who are you that so blithely disturb my Sabbath rest?’

‘I’m Inspector James Waghorn from Scotland Yard,’ Jimmy replied simply.

‘Be sure your sins will find you out!’ exclaimed the other in a sepulchral tone. ‘Where are the minions of justice? Where are the handcuffs and the gyves? Where, in fact, is the Black Maria?’

‘Sorry, I forgot to bring it. But I’d be very glad if you could spare me five minutes of your time, Mr Willingdon.’

‘He calls me Mr Willingdon! Indeed, my offence must be rank. Wherein have I transgressed the King’s Peace? Have I driven thirty and a half miles an hour in a thirty mile limit? Have I consumed alcohol during the hours when such indulgence is not permitted? Have I been so lost to all sense of decency as to loiter with intent? Come inside, and tell me the worst.’

He led the way into a room furnished as a lounge, with the curtains drawn across all the windows. When his eyes became accustomed to the gloom, Jimmy perceived that at one end of this room was a table covered with a newspaper, on which was laid a tin can, a loaf of bread and a bottle of beer. A faint but penetrating smell of perfume pervaded the place.

‘Observe the preparations for my frugal meal,’ said Willingdon. ‘Care to join me? I dare say I could find another bottle of beer in the refrigerator.’

‘I couldn’t think of depriving you of it,’ Jimmy replied. ‘You’ve heard, of course, of what happened at the doctor’s house across the road yesterday afternoon?’

Willingdon shook his head. ‘While I am in this rural retreat, I am a temporary anchorite,’ he said. ‘That’s what I come here for. Life in the giddy world is so hectic that even the most pernicious of us want a rest sometimes. Don’t you find that, inspector? Nothing untoward has befallen the doctor, I hope? He seemed a very good fellow the only time I saw him.’

‘His wife’s uncle was found dead in his house soon after one o’clock yesterday.’

‘How very annoying! I should hate any of my well-loved and respected relatives to expire in my arms. Unless, of course, their testamentary depositions compensated for the shock to my nerves. But surely you haven’t come to talk to me about the deceased uncle of the doctor’s wife? Sounds too terribly like a lesson in elementary French.’

‘That’s just what I have come to talk about. It’s just possible that you may have seen or heard something which may throw light upon the man’s death. To begin with, what were you doing between one and a quarter past yesterday afternoon, Mr Willingdon?’

With a gesture, Willingdon indicated the table.

‘Much what I’m doing now, or should have been doing but for the unexpected pleasure of your visit,’ he replied. ‘Replenishing the jaded body with its needful sustenance.’

‘And what did you do when you had completed the process?’

Willingdon pointed to the sofa. ‘I laid myself recumbent on yonder couch,’ he replied. ‘And there I still was when the summons of the door-knocker roused me from my slumbers.’

‘You had a visitor?’ Jimmy suggested.

‘You have divined the truth, inspector. It’s not the first time that people have knocked on the door while I’ve been down here. But, as a rule, I don’t open it and after a time they go away. I had no intention of opening the door yesterday afternoon, imagining that time would abate the nuisance. So it did, but the nuisance reasserted itself. It manifested itself this time by a tapping on the window. I couldn’t stand that, so I got up to see who it was.’

‘What time was this?’ Jimmy asked.

Willingdon frowned. ‘I have always refused to be a slave to that ridiculous convention which you call time,’ he replied. ‘Besides, there’s no such thing, as any of these modern scientific johnnies will tell you. It was sometime in the afternoon, too early for my system to demand the stimulus of tea, and not yet late enough for it to have recovered from its post-prandial somnolence.’

‘Somewhere between two and three o’clock, perhaps?’

‘Very likely. I opened the window, and a husky voice hailed me. “Got any fags to spare, guv’nor?”’

‘What did the man look like?’ Jimmy asked.

‘Nothing on earth. You couldn’t imagine him unless you had read The King in Yellow, which I don’t suppose you have.’

Jimmy smiled. ‘“Songs that the Hyades shall sing, Where flap the tatters of the king,”’ he quoted. ‘Is that what you were thinking of?’

‘Once more you have divined it. There was something kingly in his assurance that his request would not be denied. And the tatters—the yellow tatters! Nowhere but in Carcosa could he have found a garment like that.’

‘Could you describe it?’

‘Words don’t often fail me, as you may have noticed. But for that purpose, I can think of none adequate. It still retained a faint suggestion of military discomfort about the collar, as though some veteran of the Peninsula war had cowered in it behind the lines of Torres Vedras. In colour it was yellow, the yellow of dank and mouldering corruption. It was probably verminous, and most certainly it stank.’

‘Could you describe the man who was wearing it?’

‘Red hair, wandering blue eyes and a pungent aroma of perspiration. Those were my impressions.’

‘Did you give him any cigarettes?’

‘I did. I gave him a handful out of that box you see over there. I thought it was the quickest way of getting rid of him. And he said, “Honourable toff, here’s my best thanks.” I liked that, for he’s the first person who’s ever thought me honourable or considered me a toff.’

‘What happened after that?’

‘“Erupit, evasit, as Tully would phrase it!” He hasn’t troubled me since, I’m thankful to say.’

In reply to further questions Willingdon gave the following information. He had taken the cottage for a month, having seen it advertised in The Times