‘Let’s do that, for God’s sake,’ said Parish.

Mr Nark was suddenly and violently ill.

‘That settle’s it,’ said old Abel. ‘Us’ll move.’

III

‘Steady,’ said the doctor. ‘There’s no particular hurry, you know. It’s no joke negotiating Coombe Tunnel on a night like this. We must be nearly there.’

‘Sorry,’ said Cubitt. ‘I can’t get it out of my head you might—might be able to do something.’

‘I’m afraid not from your account. Here’s the tunnel, now. I should change down to first, really I should.’

Cubitt changed down. ‘I expect you wish you’d driven yourself,’ he said grimly.

‘If it hadn’t been for that slow puncture—there’s the turning. Can you do it in one in this car? Splendid. I must confess I don’t enjoy driving into the Coombe, even on clear nights. Now the road down. Pretty steep, really, and it’s streaming with surface water. Shameful state of repair. Here we are.’

Cubitt put on his brakes and drew up with a sidelong skid at the front door of the Feathers. The doctor got out, reached inside for his bag, and ducked through the rain into the entry. Cubitt followed him.

‘In the private bar, you said?’ asked Dr Shaw.

He pushed open the door and they walked in.

The private bar was deserted but the lights were up in the Public beyond, and they heard a murmur of voices.

‘Hallo!’ called Dr Shaw.

There was a scuffling of feet and Will Pomeroy appeared on the far side of the bar.

‘Here’s doctor,’ said Will, over his shoulder.

‘Just a minute, Will,’ said the voice of Mr Oates. ‘I’ll trouble you to stay where you are, if you please, gentlemen.’

He loomed up massively, put Will aside, and reached Dr Shaw by way of the tap proper, ducking under both counters.

‘Well, Oates,’ said Dr Shaw, ‘what’s the trouble?’

Cubitt, stranded inside the door, stayed where he was. Oates pointed to the settle. Dr Shaw took off his hat and coat, laid them with his bag on a table, and then moved to the shrouded figure. He drew back the sheet and, after a moment’s pause, stooped over Watchman.

Cubitt turned away. There was a long silence.

At last Dr Shaw straightened up and replaced the sheet.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘let’s have the whole story again. I’ve had it once from Mr Cubitt, but he says he was a bit confused. Where are the others?’

‘In here, doctor,’ said Abel Pomeroy. ‘Will you come through?’

Oates and Will held up the counter-flap and Dr Shaw went into the public bar. Parish, Mr Nark and Abel had got to their feet.