‘That’s right. Deliberate. Stuck it up on a beam over there.’ He gestured excitedly at the far wall of the shed. ‘There’s two of those hooks and that’s what they done with them. In that dark corner and high up, where I couldn’t see them. So what do I do? Go crook at the fleecies. Naturally. I get the idea they done it to swing one across me. They’re boys and they act like boys. Cheeky. I’d told them off the day before, and I reckoned they’d come back at me with this one. “You come to light with them two hooks,” I said, “or I’ll knock your blocks off for you.” Well, of course, they says they don’t know anything about it, and I don’t believe them and away we go. And by this time the bins are full and me and my mate are behind on our job.’

Alleyn walked over to the wall and reached up. He could just get his hand on the beam.

‘So you moved the bales without using hooks?’

‘That’s right. Now don’t ask me if we noticed anything. If we’d noticed anything we’d have said something, wouldn’t we? All right.’

‘When did you find the hooks?’

‘That night when we was clearing up, Albie Black starts in again on the boys, saying they never done their job, not filling up the kerosene lamps and fooling round with the candle. So we all look over where the lantern and the candle are on the wall and my mate says they’ve been swarming up the wall like a couple of blasted monkeys. “What’s that up there,” he howls. He’s a tall joker, and he walks across and yanks down the bale hooks off of the top beam. The boys reckon they don’t know how the hooks got up there, and we argue round the point till Tommy Johns has to bring up the matter of who the hell put his foot through his overall pants. Oh, it was a lovely day.’

‘When the bales were finally loaded on the lorry—’ Alleyn began, but at once Merrywether took fright. ‘Now, don’t you start in on me about that,’ he scolded, ‘I never noticed nothing, How would I? I never handled it.’

‘All right, my dear man,’ said Alleyn pacifically, ‘you didn’t. That disposes of that. Don’t be so damned touchy; I never knew such a chap.’

‘I got to consider my stomach,’ said Merrywether darkly.

‘Your stomach’ll have to lump it, I’m afraid. Who stencilled the Mount Moon mark on the bales?’

‘Young Cliff.’

‘And who sewed up the bales?’

‘I did. Now!’