‘That’ll be quite OK, Mr Webley,’ said Simon magnificently.

‘Much obliged, Mr Bell,’ said Webley and neatly detached the page.

Gaunt said: ‘And in what condition is our fugitive Questing now, Dr Ackrington? Is he galloping away to some hideout, dressed in dungarees and patent-leather pumps, or is he capering about in the rude nude?’

Dr Ackrington darted a glance of loathing at Gaunt and said nothing.

Webley said: ‘You’ve been telling them about your theory, have you, Doctor? Disappearance, eh? You’ll find it difficult to fit in these boots, won’t you?’

‘The difficulty,’ said Dr Ackrington, ‘is not insuperable. Isn’t it at least possible that Questing realized he had left recognizable footprints and threw the boots he had intended to wear into the cauldron?’

‘You are as nimble in the concoction of unlikelihoods,’ said Gaunt, ‘as a Baconian nosing in the plays of Shakespeare.’

‘An utter irrelevancy, Gaunt. A little while ago you supported my contention. I find your change of attitude incomprehensible.’

‘I’m afraid that on consideration I find all your theories equally irrelevant and incomprehensible. I’m afraid that for me, however selfishly, the point of interest lies in the fact that whether Questing slipped, was pushed, or escaped, I cannot, in the wildest realms of conjecture, be supposed to have had anything to do with the event. If I’m wanted, Sergeant Webley, I shall be in my room.’

‘That’ll be quite OK, thank you, Mr Gaunt,’ said Webley and watched him go.

III

When Gaunt had gone, the meeting dissolved into a series of mumbled duologues. Dikon heard Webley say that he wanted to look through their rooms. Mrs Claire said that he would find them dreadfully untidy. It appeared that Huia, stimulated to the point of hysteria by the events of the last twelve hours, was incapable of performing her duties. She slept over at the native village which, Mrs Claire explained, she reported to be seething with terrified speculations.

‘They get such strange ideas, you know,’ said Mrs Claire to Webley. ‘One tries to tell them that all their old superstitions are wrong but still they are there—underneath.’

Dikon thought that Webley pricked up his ears at this. However the Sergeant merely said in his sluggish way that he would rather the rooms were not touched and that he hoped nobody would object to his looking through them. He added the ominous request that they should all remain on the premises as he would like to see them again. He went off with the Colonel in the direction of the study. Mr Falls looked after them meditatively.

Dikon went to see his employer and found him on the sofa with his eyes closed.

‘Well?’ said Gaunt, without opening his eyes.

‘Well, sir, the meeting’s dissolved.’

‘I’ve been thinking. The Maori youth must be found. The youth who saw me go up the main road.’

‘Eru Saul?’