The branch-line from Exter to Illington meanders amiably towards the coast. From the train windows Alleyn and Fox looked down on sunken lanes, on thatched roofs and on glossy hedgerows that presented millions of tiny mirrors to the afternoon sun. Alleyn let down the window and the scent of hot grass and leaves drifted into the stuffy carriage.

‘Nearly there, Br’er Fox. That’s Illington church spire over the hill and there’s the glint of sea beyond.’

‘Very pleasant,’ said Fox, dabbing at his enormous face with his handkerchief. ‘Warm though.’

‘High summer, out there.’

‘You never seem to show the heat, Mr Alleyn. Now I’m a warm man. I perspire very freely. Always have. It’s not an agreeable habit, though they tell me it’s healthy.’

‘Yes, Fox.’

‘I’ll get the things down, sir.’

The train changed its pace from slow to extremely slow. Beyond the window, a main road turned into a short-lived main street with a brief network of surrounding shops. The word ‘Illington’ appeared in white stones on a grassy bank, and they drew into the station.

‘There’s the super,’ said Fox. ‘Very civil.’

Superintendent Harper shook hands at some length. Alleyn, once as touchy as a cat, had long ago accustomed himself to official handclasps. And he liked Harper who was bald, scarlet-faced, blue-eyed, and sardonic.

‘Glad to see you, Mr Alleyn,’ said Harper. ‘Good afternoon. Good afternoon, Mr Fox. I’ve got a car outside.’

He drove them in a police Ford down the main street. They passed a Woolworth store, a departmental store, a large hotel, and a row of small shops amongst which Alleyn noticed one labelled ‘Bernard Noggins, Chemist’.

‘Is that where Parish bought the cyanide?’

‘You haven’t lost any time, Mr Alleyn,’ said Harper who seemed to hover on the edge of Alleyn’s christian name and to funk it at the last second. ‘Yes, that’s it. He’s a very stupid sort of man, is Bernie Noggins. There’s the station. The colonel will be along presently. He’s in a shocking mood over this affair, but you may be able to cope with him. I thought that before we moved on to Ottercome, you might like to see the files and have a tell,’ said Harper whose speech still held a tang of West Country.

‘Splendid. Where are we to stay?’

‘That’s as you like, of course, Mr Alleyn, but I’ve told that old blatherskite Pomeroy to hold himself in readiness. I thought you might prefer to be on the spot. I’ve warned him to say nothing about it and I think he’ll have the sense to hold his tongue. No need to put anybody on the alert, is there? This car’s at your service.’

‘Yes, but look here—’

‘It’s quite all right, Mr Alleyn. I’ve a small two-seater we can use here.’