‘That’s fantastically absurd, I’m afraid. I wouldn’t wish my worst enemy to—God, I can’t even bear to think of it.’

‘The police won’t worry about how you think, Mr Gaunt. It’s the way you acted that’ll interest them.’

‘Too right,’ said Smith rather smugly. Gaunt instantly turned on him.

‘What about you and your outcry?’ said Gaunt. ‘Three weeks ago you were howling attempted murder and breathing revenge.’

‘I’ve explained all that,’ shouted Smith in a great hurry. ‘Sim knows all about that. It was a misunderstanding. Him and me were cobbers. Here, don’t you go dragging that up and telling the police I threatened him. That’d be a nasty way to behave. They might go thinking anything, mightn’t they, Sim?’

‘I’ll say.’

‘Naturally, they’ll have their eye on you,’ said Gaunt with some enjoyment. ‘I should say they’ll be handing you the usual warning in less than no time.’

Smith’s eyes filled with tears. He thrust a shaking hand into the breast pocket of his coat and pulled out a sheet of paper which he flung on to the table. ‘Look at it!’ he cried. ‘Look at it. Him and me were cobbers. Gawd spare me days, we buried the bloody hatchet, Morry Questing and me. That’s what he was going to do for me. Look at it. Written out by his own hand in pansy green ink. Pass it round. Go on.’

They passed it round. It was a signed statement written in green ink. The Colonel at once recognized the small businesslike script as Questing’s. It undertook, in the event of Questing becoming the proprietor of Wai-ata-tapu, that the bearer, Herbert Smith, would be given permanent employment as outside porter at a wage of five pounds a week and keep.

‘You must have made yourself very unpleasant to extract this,’ said Gaunt.

‘You bet your boots I did!’ said Smith heartily. ‘I got him while my bruises were still bad. They were bad, too, weren’t they, Doc?’

Dr Ackrington grunted. ‘Bad enough,’ he said.

‘Yeh, that’s right. “You owe it to me, Questing,” I said, and then he drove me over to the level crossing and showed me how it happened, him looking through the coloured sun screen at the light. “That may be a reason but it’s no excuse,” I said. “I could make things nasty for you and you know it.” So then he asks me what I want and after a bit he comes across with this contract. After that we got on well. And now, what’s it worth? Dead or bolted it makes no odds, me contract’s a washout.’

‘I should keep it, nevertheless,’ said Dr Ackrington.

‘Too right, I’ll keep it. If Stan Webley starts in on me—’

‘I had an idea,’ said Mr Falls gently, ‘that we were going to discuss alibis.’