‘Now, look here,’ said Alleyn amiably, ‘you’ve thought this thing out for yourself and you seem to have thought it out pretty thoroughly. You must see that we can’t put a full stop after your pronouncement on the innocence of Mr Legge. The best way of establishing Legge’s innocence is to find where the guilt lies.’

‘I don’t know anything about that.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Will. ‘Really.’

‘I see. Well, can you tell us if Mr Legge stood anywhere near the brandy glass before he threw the darts?’

‘He was nowhere near it. Not ever. It was on the table by the board. He never went near it.’

‘Do you remember who stood near that table?’

Will was silent. He compressed his lips into a hard line.

‘For instance,’ Alleyn paused, ‘was Mr Sebastian Parish anywhere near the table?’

‘He might have been,’ said Will.

II

‘And now, Fox,’ said Alleyn, ‘we’ll have a word with Mr Sebastian Parish, if he’s on the premises. I don’t somehow think he’ll have strayed very far. See if you can find him.’

Fox went away. Alleyn took a long pull at his beer and read through the notes Fox had made during the interview with Will Pomeroy. The light outside had faded and the village had settled down for the evening. Alleyn could hear the hollow sounds made by men working with boats, the tramp of heavy boots on stone, a tranquil murmur of voices, and, more distantly, the thud of breakers. Within the house he heard sounds of sweeping and of quick footsteps. The Pomeroys had lost no time cleaning up the private bar. In the public bar, across the passage, a single voice seemed to drone on and on as if somebody made a speech to the assembled topers. Whoever it was it came to an end. A burst of conversation followed and then a sudden silence. Alleyn recognized Fox’s voice. Someone answered clearly and resonantly, ‘Yes, certainly.’

‘That’s Parish,’ thought Alleyn.

The door from the public taproom into the passage was opened and shut. Sebastian Parish and Fox came into the parlour.