‘He went out,’ said Alleyn, ‘soon after breakfast. Mr Pomeroy saw him enter the tunnel. That was about ten minutes before you left Ottercombe. Did you see Mr Watchman on your way home?’

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I saw him.’

‘Where, please.’

‘Just outside the top of the tunnel by some furze bushes. I think he was asleep.’

‘Did he wake as you passed him?’

She clasped her thin hands round her knees.

‘Oh, yes,’ she said.

‘Did you stop, Miss Moore?’

‘For a minute or two, yes.’

‘Do you mind telling us what you talked about?’

‘Nothing that could help you. We—we argued about theories.’

‘Theories?’

‘Oh, politics. We disagreed violently over politics. I’m a red rebel, as I suppose you’ve heard. It rather annoyed him. We only spoke for a moment.’

‘I suppose it was apropos of the Coombe Left Movement?’ murmured Alleyn.

‘Do you?’ asked Decima.

Alleyn looked apologetic. ‘I thought it might be,’ he said, ‘because of your interest in the movement. I mean it would have been a sort of natural ingredient of a political argument, wouldn’t it?’

‘Would it?’ asked Decima.

‘You’re quite right to snub me,’ said Alleyn ruefully. ‘I’m jumping to conclusions and that’s a very bad fault in our job. Isn’t it, Fox?’

‘Shocking, sir,’ said Fox.

Alleyn pulled out his notebook.

‘I’ll just get this right, if I may. You met Mr Watchman at about what time?’

‘Ten o’clock.’

‘At ten o’clock or thereabouts. You met him by accident. You think he was asleep. You had a political argument in which the Coombe Left Movement was not mentioned.’

‘I didn’t say so, you know.’

‘Would you mind saying so or saying not so? Just for my notes?’ asked Alleyn, with such a quaint air of diffidence that Decima suddenly smiled at him.

‘All right,’ she said, ‘we did argue about the society, though it’s nothing to do with the case.’

‘If you knew the numbers of these books that I’ve filled with notes that have nothing whatever to do with the case you’d feel sorry for me,’ said Alleyn.

‘We’ll manage things better when we run the police,’ said Decima.

‘I hope so,’ said Alleyn gravely. ‘Was your argument amicable?’

‘Fairly,’ said Decima.

‘Did you mention Mr Legge?’

Decima said, ‘Before we go any further there’s something I’d like to tell you.’

Alleyn looked up quickly. She was frowning. She stared out over the downs, her thin fingers were clasped together.

‘You’d better leave Robert Legge alone,’ said Decima. ‘If Watchman was murdered it wasn’t by Legge.’

‘How do you know that, Miss Moore?’

‘I watched him. He hadn’t a chance. The others will have told you that. Will, Norman Cubitt, Miss Darragh. We’ve compared notes. We’re all positive.’

‘You don’t include Mr Parish?’

‘He’s a fool,’ said Decima.

‘And Mr Abel Pomeroy?’