‘So funny that I’ve taken it upon myself to lock the cabin door, keep the key and make sure there is not a duplicate. And if the Hewsons don’t fancy that one they can lump it. What’s more I’m going to rouse up Mr Jno. Bagg, licensed dealer of Tollardwark. I think you’d better come, too, Bert,’ said Alleyn who had arrived at Mr Tillottson’s first name by way of Fox.

‘Him! Why?’

‘I’ll explain on the way. Warn them at the lock, will you, Bert, to hold anything from the Zodiac that’s handed in for posting. After all, they could pick that lock. And tell your chaps to watch like lynxes for anything to go overboard. It’s too big,’ he added, ‘for them to shove it down the loo and if they dropped it out of a porthole I think it’d float. But tell your chaps to watch. We’ll take your car, shall we?’

They left the mist-shrouded Zodiac and drove up the lane through the Constable landscape. When they reached the intersection a policeman on a motorcycle saluted.

‘My chap,’ Tillottson said.

‘Yes. I’m still uneasy, though. You’re sure this specimen can’t break for the open country and lie doggo?’

‘I’ve got three chaps on the intersections and two down at the lock. No one’ll get off that boat tonight: I’ll guarantee it.’

‘I suppose not. All right. Press on,’ Alleyn said.

The evening had begun to close in when they reached Tollardwark and Ferry Lane. They left their car in the Market Square and followed Troy’s route downhill to the premises of Jno. Bagg.

‘Pretty tumbledown dump,’ Tillottson said. ‘But he’s honest enough as dealers go. Not a local man. Southerner. Previous owner died and this chap Jo Bagg, bought the show as it stood. We’ve nothing against him in Records. He’s a rum character, though, is Jo Bagg.’

The premises consisted of a cottage, a lean-to and a yard, which was partly sheltered by a sort of ramshackle cloister pieced together from scrap iron and linoleum. The yard gate was locked. Through it Alleyn saw copious disjecta membra of Mr Bagg’s operations. A shop window in the cottage wall dingily faced the lane. It was into this window that Troy had found the Hewsons peering last Monday night.

Tillottson said. ‘He’ll be in bed as like as not. They go to bed early in these parts.’

‘Stir him up,’ Alleyn rejoined and jerked at a cord that dangled from a hole near the door. A bell jangled inside. No response. ‘Up you get,’ Alleyn muttered and jerked again. Tillottson banged on the door.

‘If you lads don’t want to be given in charge,’ bawled a voice within, ‘you better ‘op it. Go on. Get out of it. I’ll murder you one of these nights, see if I don’t.’