‘Twenty minutes,’ said Alleyn, looking from his watch to the speedometer. ‘Twenty minutes from Bossicote and twelve miles. It’s two miles from the studio to Bossicote. Fourteen miles and a straightish road. We slowed down once on Bathgate’s account and once to ask the way. At night you could do the whole trip in a quarter of an hour or less. Now then. A certain amount and yet not too much finesse is indicated. Come on, Fox.’

‘May I come?’ asked Nigel.

‘You? You have got the most colossal, the most incredible, the most appalling cheek. Your hide! Your effrontery! Well, well, well. Come along. You are a Yard typist. Wait by the car until I give you a leery nod, both of you.’

He rang the front door bell and whistled very sweetly and shrilly.

‘What is the matter with him, Fox?’ asked Nigel.

‘Search me, Mr Bathgate. He’s been that worried over this case ever since we found Garcia, you’d think he’d never crack a joke again, and then he comes out from this inquest, crosses the road to have a word with Miss Troy and comes back, as you might say, with bells on.’

‘Oh ho!’ said Nigel. ‘Say you so, Fox. By gum, Fox, do you suppose— ’

The door was opened by a manservant. Alleyn spoke to him and gave him a card. The man stood back and Alleyn with a grimace at them over his shoulder, stepped inside, leaving the door open.

‘Come on, Mr Bathgate,’ said Fox. ‘That means us.’

They joined Alleyn in a little hall that was rather overwhelmed with the horns, masks, and hides of dead animals.

‘Mrs Pascoe is away,’ whispered Alleyn, ‘but the gallant captain is within. Here he comes.’

Captain Pascoe was short, plump and vague-looking. He had prominent light blue eyes and a red face. He smelt of whisky. He looked doubtfully from Alleyn to Fox.

‘I’m sorry to bother you, Captain Pascoe,’ said Alleyn.

‘That’s all right. You’re from Scotland Yard, aren’t you? This business over at Bossicote, what?’

‘That’s it. We’re checking up everybody’s movements on the night in question—you’ll understand it has to be done.’

‘Oh quite. Routine, what?’

‘Exactly. Inspector Fox and Mr Bathgate are with me.’

‘Oh ya’,’ said Captain Pascoe. ‘H’ are y’. H’ are y’. Have a drink.’

‘Thank you so much, hut I think we’ll get on with the job.’

‘Oh. Right-ho. I suppose it’s about Valmai—Miss Seacliff—and Pilgrim, isn’t it? I’ve been followin’ the case. Damn funny, isn’t it? They’re all right. Spent Friday here with us. Slept here and went on to old Pilgrim’s place next day.’

‘So they told us. I’m just going to ask you to check up the times. It won’t take a moment.’

‘Oh, quite. Right-ho. Sit down.’