Rutledge went back again to the Dover police and used their telephone to call the Yard. Explaining the situation to Sergeant Gibson, he added, “I want a watch on all ports for someone coming in under the name Summers or Pierce, or any other on this list.” And from the sheet of paper he’d made out, he read the names of anyone who was associated with this case. “He may return as a single person or as a couple—it will depend on how safe he thinks he may be with an ill wife.”

“That’s a tall order,” Gibson pointed out. “Something will be said about the number of men required for that.”

“Clear it with the Chief Superintendent. This man hasn’t finished. He’ll kill again.”

“I’ll do my best,” Gibson said, doubt heavy in his voice. He cleared his throat and asked, “Have you heard what Inspector Mickelson had to say? He regained his senses.”

“There hasn’t been an opportunity to ask anyone,” Rutledge responded. “If he got into a motorcar with his killer, he ought to be able to provide a description.”

“You’d best ask Inspector Norman,” Gibson answered cryptically, and Rutledge had to be satisfied with that.

The problem of the dog was more easily dealt with. Sergeant Bell agreed to keep it until it could be used to identify Summers or reunited with its proper owner. That done, Rutledge turned back toward Hastings.

He had had no sleep to speak of, and he was feeling it. But he drove through Kent back to the Sussex coast. By the time he had reached Eastfield, he knew it was too late to find Inspector Norman in his office. He went to his room at The Fishermen’s Arms and slept for seven hours.

Inspector Norman met Rutledge at his office door and said, “Let’s walk.”

With foreboding, Rutledge turned to follow him. They left the station and had nearly reached The Stade when Norman said, “I was there when Inspector Mickelson was questioned. He could remember most of what happened before he was struck on the head. He said you had sent a message that he should look at the net shops before dawn, that you had a feeling that he’d find the garrote there. And so he went with the man you’d sent to find him, and when he reached the sheds, something hit him.”

“That marches with what Mrs. Farrell-Smith claimed. She saw two men talking near the church, and they drove away together.”

“Exactly.”

“His first mistake,” Rutledge said crisply. “I can show I was far away from Sussex at the time. I could have arranged to have him lured to Hastings, but I wasn’t there to deliver the blow. It was a trick. And it worked.”

“Inspector Mickelson had Carl in custody but hadn’t been able to lay hands on the murder weapon. Yes, it worked a treat.”