‘I’m extremely sorry. You’re perfectly right—it was unpardonable. Goodbye.’

He stood back. Troy made a swift movement with her hands and leant towards him.

‘Don’t be so “pukka sahib”,’ she said. ‘It is quite true—a woman doesn’t mind.’

‘Troy!’

‘Now I’m saying too much. It’s her vanity. Even mixed up with horrors like these she rather likes it.’

‘We seem to be an odd pair,’ said Alleyn. ‘I haven’t the smallest idea of what you think of me. No, truly, not the smallest idea. But even in the middle of police investigations we appear to finish our thoughts. Troy, have you ever thought of me when you were alone?’

‘Naturally.’

‘Do you dislike me?’

‘No.’

‘That will do to go on with,’ said Alleyn. ‘Good morning.’

With his hat still in his hand he turned and walked away quickly to his mother’s car.

‘Off we go, Fox,’ he said. ‘Alley houp. The day is ours.’

He slipped in the clutch and in a very few minutes they were travelling down a fortunately deserted road at fifty miles an hour. Fox cleared his throat.

‘What’s that, Brer Fox?’ asked Alleyn cheerfully.

‘I didn’t speak, Mr Alleyn. Are we in a hurry?’

‘Not particularly. I have a disposition of speed come upon me.’

‘I see,’ said Fox dryly.

Alleyn began to sing.

‘Au clair de la lune Mon ami, Pierrot.’

Trees and hedges flew past in a grey blur. From the back of the car a muffled voice suddenly chanted:

‘I thought I saw Inspector Alleyn hunting for a clue.

I looked again and saw it was an inmate at the Zoo.

“Good God,” I said, “It’s very hard to judge between these two.”

‘ Alleyn took his foot off the accelerator. Fox slewed round and stared into the back of the car. From an upheaval of rugs Nigel’s head emerged.

‘I thought,’ he continued, ‘I saw Gargantua in fancy worsted socks.

I looked again and saw it was a mammoth picking locks.

“Good God,” I said, “it might have been my friend Inspector Fox.” ’

‘Rude is never funny,’ said Alleyn. ‘When did you hide in my mother’s car?’

‘Immediately after the old gentleman pronounced the word “adjournment.” Where are we bound for?’

‘I shan’t tell you. Alley houp! Away we go again.’

‘Mr Fox,’ said Nigel, ‘what has overtaken your chief? Is he mad, drunk, or in love?’

‘Don’t answer the fellow, Brer Fox,’ said Alleyn. ‘Let him burst in ignorance. Sit down, behind, there.’

They arrived at Boxover and drew up outside a rather charming Georgian house on the outskirts of the village.