“Was that because the Derbyshire police couldn’t come up with a reason that satisfied the Crown, or was it because they didn’t care for her on general principles?”

“I couldn’t say. But there was no medical evidence that her husband had been struck or tripped. No bruises and the like. She claimed he’d experienced a bit of vertigo, that she put out a hand to him, and he turned the wrong way.” He paused. “She had scratches on her hands from where he clawed at her as he went over. But no one could tell whether they occurred as she tried to save him or whether it was as he tried to save himself and she let go.”

“Either way, she would have to move house, and live where she wasn’t known.” Rutledge nodded. “Very selfish of her to want the Yard out of the picture, but it’s understandable. I need to speak to Chief Superintendent Bowles.”

“He’s not here, he’s on his way to testify in a trial in Lincoln. Remember that one? He had to examine the firm’s books himself.”

“Damn. It could be days before that’s finished.” He debated following the Chief Superintendent north, and then thought better of it. “All right, I’ll go back to Sussex and have a word with the Chief Constable.”

“I’d be cautious on that score, sir. The Chief Constable wasn’t best pleased by Mrs. Farrell-Smith’s complaint. Apparently he’d wanted the inquiry to be left in the hands of the local police, but Mr. Pierce had been very persuasive. He said as much to me, and then when I’d brought the Chief Superintendent to the telephone, he was still angry. I couldn’t help but overhear the Chief Superintendent blaming you for the lack of progress in the inquiry, and he apologized for your conduct and your incompetence. Something was said about the fourth murder, because I heard Old Bowels reply that if you’d spent less time annoying people and more in finding the killer, someone would have been in custody by now.”

Rutledge said only, “I’ll be careful.”

It was late evening before he left the Yard. He had used the time to put in two telephone calls of his own. He had managed to speak to the corporal in Cheshire whose name had been on one of the other identity discs—the inspector there had been more than willing to find and bring the man to the telephone. The corporal had never possessed identity discs, and he knew nothing about the men of the Eastfield Company The inspector had come back on the line and vouched for the man. That avenue had led nowhere, just as Rutledge had expected.

The second telephone call elicited the fact that the name on the fourth set had died of his wounds in England after a valiant fight against the odds.