‘Very good, sir,’ said Fox and went out.

Alleyn put his papers together and shoved them into a drawer of his desk. He noticed with distaste that the papers felt gritty and that the handle of the drawer was sticky. He wished suddenly that something important might crop up somewhere in the country, somewhere, for preference, in the South of England and his thoughts switched back to the death of Luke Watchman in Devon. He called to mind the report of the inquest. He had read it attentively.

Fox returned and stood with his hand on the door.

‘In here, if you please, Mr Pomeroy,’ said Fox.

Alleyn thought his visitor would have made a very good model for the portrait of an innkeeper. Abel’s face was broad, ruddy, and amiable. His mouth looked as if it had only just left off smiling and was ready to break into a smile again, for all that, at the moment, he was rather childishly solemn. He wore his best suit and it sat uneasily upon him. He walked half-way across the floor and made a little bow.

‘Good afternoon, sir,’ said Abel.

‘Good afternoon, Mr Pomeroy. I hear you’ve come all the way up from the West Country to see us.’

‘I have so, sir. First time since Coronation and not such a pleasant errand. I bide home-along mostly.’

‘Lucky man. Sit down, Mr Pomeroy.’

‘Much obliged, sir.’

Abel sat down and spread his hands on his knees.

‘This gentleman,’ he said, looking at Fox, ‘says it do be none of your business here, sir. That’s a bit of a facer. I got no satisfaction along to Illington, and I says to myself, “I’ll go up top. I’ll cut through all their pettifogging, small-minded ways, and lay my case boldly before the witty brains of those masterpieces at Scotland Yard.” Seems like I’ve wasted time and money.’

‘That’s bad luck,’ said Alleyn. ‘I’m sorry, but Inspector Fox is right. The Yard only takes up an outside case at the request of the local superintendent, you see. But if you’d care to tell me, unofficially, what the trouble is, I think I may invite you to do so.’

‘Better than nothing, sir, and thank you very kindly.’ Abel moistened his lips and rubbed his knees. ‘I’m sore troubled,’ he said. ‘It’s got me under the weather. First time anything of a criminal nature has ever come my way. The Feathers has got a clean sheet, sir. Never any trouble about after-hours in my house. Us bides by the law and now it seems as how the law don’t bide by we.’

‘A criminal nature?’ said Alleyn.

‘What else am I to think of it, sir? ‘Twasn’t accident! ‘Twasn’t neglect on my part for all they’re trying to put on me.’