“About time too,” Albert said. “ Why did he go to see Ernie before coming here?”

Laurence blinked. “Ernest went to see him,” he said. “He thought the police ought to know about Nicholas Mardle. He went to tell them.”

“I suppose that was Helen’s idea,” Albert said. “Ridiculous anyway. Nicholas Mardle wouldn’t have murdered Charlie. Charlie didn’t have anything to do with the business. Young Mardle liked him as far as I know. Did she say what this detective was like?”

“No. Not really.” Elsie was apologetic, as if she should have gained more information. “ She said that he wasn’t local.”

“Perhaps he’s from Scotland Yard,” Albert said, becoming even more excited. “I wonder what he wants.”

“I don’t think he wants anything especially,” Elsie said. “Just a general conversation.”

“Of course he wants something. He wouldn’t come here if he didn’t want something.”

Connibear immediately felt at ease in the house in Laurel Avenue. Elsie bustled them out of the wind and began talking at once about tea. There was a print in the hall which he recognized. His aunty had had one like it on her mantelshelf for twenty years.

Albert Todd sat in a high, straight-backed chair in one corner of the living room. A walking frame stood against the wall beside him, but there was no other indication of his age. He did not look very old. Savage took the chair next to him. Laurence had turned off the television as soon as he heard the knock at the door, and was hovering nervously, uncertain whether he should stay or go, bothered about where he should sit. Elsie was in the kitchen making tea.

Savage and Albert looked at each other. Neither was too concerned with the conventions of politeness and did not hide the mutual appraisal.

“It’s good of you to come and see me,” Albert said with a touch of sarcasm. “I was expecting to see you earlier.”

“We’ve been on the island all day,” Savage said. It was a kind of apology.

“I’ve never been there,” Albert said. “Don’t suppose I will now. Do you know who killed Charlie?”

“Not yet,” Savage said.

“Well, it wasn’t Nicholas Mardle. I knew Fred and Mary very well. They wouldn’t have had a son who is a murderer.”

“What do you think, Mr. Todd?” Savage turned to Laurence. Laurence was surprised by the question. He hesitated, stammered briefly before speaking.

“No,” he said. “No, I don’t think that he killed Charlie. He was very upset, very upset, but I don’t think that he could have done that.”

Savage dismissed Laurence as a waffler. He turned back to Albert.

“When young Mardle came to see you, what exactly did he say? His mother had died?”

“Yes,” Albert said. “ It was the day after the funeral. You mustn’t take any notice of what was said then. It was only natural. I wouldn’t have mentioned it. It doesn’t show the business in a good light.”

“All the same,” Savage insisted. “ I must know what was said.”