‘What’s he up to?’ asked Fox.

‘Being one too many for the infamous police,’ said Alleyn. ‘He’s polishing his car.’

‘Well, I’ll be blooming well blowed,’ said Fox.

‘He must have nearly finished. Switch off the light, Fox. It’d be a pity to keep him waiting.’

Fox switched off the light. He and Alleyn sat like shadows in the bar parlour. The Ottercombe town clock struck twelve and, a moment later, the same dragging footsteps sounded in the yard. The side door was shut and the steps went past the parlour. The staircase light clicked and a faint glow showed underneath the door.

‘Up he does,’ whispered Alleyn.

Legge went slowly upstairs, turned the light off, and moved along the passage above their heads. A door closed.

‘Now then,’ said Alleyn.

They went upstairs in the dark and slipped into Alleyn’s room, the first on the top landing. The upstairs passage was bright with moonlight.

‘His is the end one,’ murmured Alleyn. ‘He’s got his light on. Do you suppose he’ll set to work and wipe all the untensils in his room.’

‘The thing’s silly,’ whispered Fox. ‘I’ve never known anything like it. What’s the good of it? We’ll get his blasted dabs.’

‘What do you bet me he won’t come down to breakfast in gloves?’

‘He’s capable of anything,’ snorted Fox.

‘Sssh! He’s coming out.’

‘Lavatory?’

‘Possibly.’

Alleyn groped for the door and unlatched it.

‘What are you doing, sir?’ asked Fox rather peevishly.

‘Squinting through the crack,’ Alleyn whispered. ‘Now he’s come out of the lavatory.’

‘I can hear that.’

‘He’s in his pyjamas. He doesn’t look very delicious. Good Lord!’

‘What?’

‘He’s crossed the passage,’ breathed Alleyn, ‘and he’s stooping down at another door.’

‘What’s he up to?’

‘Can’t see—shadow. Now he’s off again. Back to his own room. Shuts the door. Light out. Mr Legge finished for the night.’

‘And not before it was time,’ grumbled Fox. ‘They’ve got a nice sort of chap as secretary and treasurer for their society. How long’ll we give him, Mr Alleyn? I’d like to have a look what he’s been up to.’

‘I’ll give him ten minutes and then go along the passage.’

‘Openly?’

‘Yes. Quickly but not stealthily, Fox. It’s the room on the right at the end. It looked almost as if he was shoving a note under the door. Very odd.’

‘What age,’ asked Fox, ‘is the Honourable Violet Darragh?’

‘What a mind you have! It was probably young Pomeroy’s door.’

‘I hadn’t thought of that, sir. Probably.’

Alleyn switched on the light and began to unpack his suitcase. Whistling soundlessly he set his room in order, undressed, and put on his pyjamas and dressing-gown.

‘Now then,’ he said. He picked up his towel and sponge-bag and went out.