‘I told Questing I should like to see it first. Not unnaturally. My secretary had related the story of Rewi’s axe. When Questing came to me a few nights ago and littered the place up with obscure hints that he could if he would and so on, I confess my curiosity was stimulated. But I assure you that I did not commit myself in any way.’

‘Do you realize that the removal of property from a native reserve is a criminal offence?’ Dr Ackrington demanded.

‘No. Is it really? Questing told me the old gentleman was prepared to sell but that he didn’t want the rest of his tribe to know. He said we should have to be very hush-hush.’

‘Did you know anything about this, Mr Bell?’ asked Webley, turning his dark face towards Dikon.

‘Oh, no,’ said Gaunt easily. ‘I didn’t mention it to anybody. Questing was rather particular about that.’

‘I’ll be bound he was,’ said Webley with a nearer approach to bitterness than Dikon had thought him capable of expressing.

‘It was really too bad of him to involve me in a dubious transaction, you know. I resent it,’ said Gaunt. ‘And I must say, Sergeant, you seem to me to be working yourself into a tig over an abortive attempt at theft while an enemy agent bustles into obscurity. Why not deny yourself your passion for curios and catch Mr Questing?’

Dikon opened his mouth and shut it again. He was looking at Mr Falls, upon whose lips were painted the faintest trace of a smile.

‘But we have found Mr Questing,’ said Webley dully. Gaunt’s hands contracted and he gave a sharp exclamation. Dikon saw again the hard curve of an orb under wet sacking.

‘Found him?’ said Gaunt softly. ‘Where?’

‘Where he was lost, Mr Gaunt. In Taupo-tapu.’

‘My God!’

Gaunt looked at his fingers, seemed to hesitate, and then turned on his heel and walked back along the verandah. As he reached his own rooms he said loudly with a sort of sneer: ‘That takes the icing off old Ackrington’s gingerbread, doesn’t it! I beg your pardon, Doctor. Do forgive me. I’d forgotten you were here.’

He went into his room and they heard him shout for Colly.

Mr Falls broke an awkward silence by saying: ‘What a very gay taste in shirts Mr Eru Saul displays, doesn’t he?’

Eru, a desolate figure, had plodded up the drive as far as the last turn that was visible from the house. His puce-coloured sleeves were vivid in the sunlight.

Barbara leant out of the window and said nervously: ‘He always wears that shirt. One wonders if it’s ever washed.’

Dikon, expecting Dr Ackrington’s outburst to come at any moment, said hurriedly: ‘I know. He wore it on the day of Smith’s accident.’

‘So he did.’

‘No, he didn’t,’ said the Colonel unexpectedly.