“That will do very nicely, sir,” Savage said. “What’s your opinion to date?”

George smiled. “Superintendent Savage, you overestimate my powers. I don’t know anything at all about it.”

“I understood that Elizabeth Richards met you on the shore and explained what happened.”

“She told me that Charlie Todd had been found murdered in the seawatching hide. She didn’t know any details. No one else has spoken to me.”

The superintendent rewound the tape on the machine on his desk.

“I’ve just been speaking to John Lansdown. I’d like you to listen to the interview.”

George Palmer-Jones listened, writing occasionally on the back of an envelope with an expensive fountain pen.

“That gives a broad outline of the matter. Did you know that Mr. Todd intended to sell the island?”

“No, though I’m not surprised.”

“I understand that he was somewhat … eccentric. Still, I don’t suppose that it’s relevant. It’s hardly a realistic motive for murder.”

“Perhaps not.”

“Except for Mr. Lansdown and his girlfriend. I presume they live together as man and wife. I wonder why they don’t get married?”

George did not reply.

“Do you happen to know if anyone gained financially from Mr. Todd’s death? Did he have anything else to leave?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know. He has the reputation of being a wealthy man, but I shouldn’t think that he had much left after buying the island. It would be different if he’d had a stake in the family business.”

“So I believe.”

The superintendent looked at his watch. “ Lunch will be at one o’clock, will it?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ve time to see one more. Who do you suggest?”

George hesitated. He was gratified, despite himself, to be given the power to shape the investigation, but disliked being put in the position of informer.

“I was expecting you to talk to Pamela Marshall,” he said. Savage was, after all, only doing his job. “ Perhaps you don’t know. She was Charlie Todd’s niece. Perhaps she can give you more information about his financial affairs.”

“Thank you very much, sir. That’s very convenient. Connibear, show Mr. Palmer-Jones back to the common room and ask Mrs. Marshall to come in to see me.”

He hardly looked up. He had taken Palmer-Jones’s help quite for granted.

She looked expensive, Savage thought, even in ordinary slacks and a hand-knitted jumper. She was in her late thirties, slim, blonde, discreetly made up. She reached out to shake his hand, and she even smelled expensive.

“Good morning, Superintendent,” she said. “I don’t think that I can help you, but I’ll be pleased to try.” She had a pleasant, careful voice. He had expected sailing club stridency, but there was still a hint of a Devon accent. She smiled at him.

She’s trying too hard, he thought, and asked: “ Did you go to see your uncle last night?”

“No,” she said calmly. “ I had thought about it, before supper, but in the end I didn’t bother. Because he was my uncle I felt obliged to go to see him when I was here, to talk about the family, but we didn’t really have a lot in common.”