Webley and the Colonel were still huddled together on the verandah. They moved and Dikon saw that between them they held a curious-looking object. Seen from a distance, it resembled a gigantic wishbone adorned with a hairy crest. It was by this crest that they held it, standing well away from the two shafts, one of which was wooden while the other glinted dully in the sunlight. It was a Maori adze.

Webley looked up and saw Dikon, who instantly felt as though he had been caught spying on them. To dispel this uncomfortable illusion, he walked over and joined them.

‘Hullo, Bell,’ said the Colonel. ‘Here’s a rum go.’ He looked at Webley. ‘Shall we tell him?’ he asked.

‘Just a minute, Colonel,’ said Webley, ‘just a minute. I’d like to ask Mr Bell if he’s ever seen this object before.’

‘Never,’ said Dikon. ‘To my knowledge, never.’

‘You were in Questing’s room last night, weren’t you, Mr Bell?’

‘I glanced in to see if he was there. Yes.’

‘You didn’t look in any of his boxes?’

‘Why should I?’ cried Dikon. ‘This isn’t a corpse-in-a-trunk mystery. Why on earth should I? Anyway,’ he added lamely after a glance at Webley’s impassive face, ‘I didn’t.’

Webley, still holding the adze by its hairy crest, laid it carefully on the verandah table. The haft, intricately carved, was crowned by a grimacing manikin. The stone blade, which had been worked down to a double edge with a rounded point, projected, almost at right angles to the haft, from beneath the rump of the manikin.

‘They used to dong one another with those things,’ said Dikon. ‘Did you find it in Questing’s room?’

The Colonel glanced uncomfortably at Webley, who merely said: ‘I think we’ll let old Rua take a look at this, Colonel. Could you get a message over to him? My chaps are busy out there. I’d rather nobody touched this axe affair and anyway it’d be as well to get Rua away from the rest of his gang.’

‘I’ll go,’ Dikon offered.

Webley looked him over thoughtfully. ‘Well, now that’s very kind of you, Mr Bell,’ he said.

‘Trophies of the chase, Sergeant?’ asked Mr Falls, suddenly thrusting his head out of his bedroom window which was above the verandah table. ‘Do forgive me. I couldn’t help overhearing you. You’ve found a magnificent expression of a savage art, haven’t you? And you wish for an expert opinion? May I suggest that Bell and I go hand-in-hand to the native village? We can, as it were, keep an eye on each other. A variant of the adage that one should set a thief to catch a thief. Do you follow me?’