‘Ah, you’ll end in a cocked hat with a plume in ut,’ said Miss Darragh, ‘if ‘tis cocked hats they give to chief commissioners. That’s it, sure enough. Me poor cousin Bryonie always felt he’d been responsible for the crash. He was very indiscreet, it seems, and might have helped to patch things up if he’d kept his wits about ‘um. But he didn’t. He’d no head for business and he only half-suspected there was anything illegal going on. But he said he’d only learned one kind of behaviour and, when it didn’t fit in with finance, he was entirely at sea and thought maybe he’d better hold his peace. But it wasn’t in his nature not to talk and that was the downfall of ‘um. The jury saw that he’d been no more than a cat’s-paw, but when he got off with the lighter sentence there was a great deal of talk that ‘twas injustice and that his position saved him. Thringle felt so himself and said so. Me cousin never lost his faith in Thringle who seemed to have cast a kind of spell over ‘um, though you wouldn’t think it possible, would you, to see Thringle now? But in those days he was a fine-looking fellow. Dark as night, he was, with a small imperial, and his own teeth instead of those dreadful china falsehoods they gave ‘um in prison. It’s no wonder at all you didn’t know ‘um from Adam when you saw ‘um. Well, the long and short of ut ‘twas that before he died the family promised poor Bryonie they’d look after Mr Thringle when he came out of gaol. He was on their conscience, and I won’t say he didn’t know ut and make the most of ut. We kept in touch with ‘um, and he wrote from here saying he’d changed his name to Legge and that he needed money. We’ve not much of that to spare but we had a family conference and, as I was planning a little sketching jaunt anyway, I said I’d take ut at Ottercombe and see for meself how the land lay. So that was what I did. Don’t ask me to tell you the nature of our talks for they were in confidence and had nothing to say to the case. I wish with all me heart you could have left ‘um alone but I see ‘twas impossible. He fought those two big policemen like a Kilkenny cat, silly fellow. But if it’s a question of bailing him out I’ll be glad to do ut.’

‘Thank you,’ said Alleyn, ‘I’ll see that the right people are told about it. Miss Darragh, have you done any sketching along the cliffs from the tunnel to Coombe Head?’

Miss Darragh looked at him in consternation. ‘I have,’ she said.

‘In the mornings?’