‘The telephone’s switched through to the study,’ he said. ‘I promise not to eavesdrop.’ He paused reflectively. ‘Eavesdrop!’ he muttered. ‘What a curious word! To drop from eaves. Reminds one of the swallows, and, by a not too extravagant flight of fancy, of your job for the morrow. Give one long ring and the exchange at the Pass may feel moved to answer you.’

When Alleyn lifted the receiver it was to cut in on a cross-plateau conversation. A voice angrily admonished him: ‘Working!’ He hung up and waited. He could hear Fabian whistling in the hall. The telephone gave a brief tinkle and he tried again, this time with success. The operator at the Pass came through. Alleyn asked for a police station two hundred miles away, where he hoped Sub-Inspector Jackson might possibly be on duty. ‘I’ll call you,’ said the operator coldly. ‘This is a police call,’ said Alleyn, ‘I’ll hold the line.’ ‘Aren’t you Mount Moon?’ said the operator sharply. ‘Yes, and it’s still a police call, if you’ll believe me.’ ‘Not in trouble up there, are you, Mr Losse?’ ‘I’m as happy as a lark,’ said Alleyn, ‘but in a bit of a hurry,’ ‘Hold the line,’ giggled the operator. A vast buzzing set up in his ear, threaded with ghost voices. ‘That’ll be good-oh, then, Bob.’ ‘Eh?’ ‘I said, that’ll be jake.’ The operator’s voice cut in omnipotently. ‘There you are, Mr Losse. They’re waiting.’

Sub-Inspector Jackson was not there but PC Wetherbridge, who had been detailed to the case in town, answered the telephone and was helpful. ‘The radio programmes for the second week in January, ’42, Mr Alleyn? I think we can do that for you.’

‘For the evening of Thursday the 29th,’ Alleyn said, ‘between eight and nine o’clock. Only stations with good reception in this district.’

‘It may take us a wee while, Mr Alleyn.’

‘Of course. Would you tell the exchange at the Pass to keep itself open and call me back?’

‘That’ll be OK, sir.’

‘And Wetherbridge. I want you to get hold of Mr Jackson. Tell him it’s a very long chance, but I may want to bring someone in to the station. I’d very much like a word with him. I think it would be advisable for him to come up here. He asked me to let him know if there were developments. There are. If you can find him, he might come in on the line when you call me back.’

‘He’s at home, sir. I’ll ring him. I don’t think I’ll have much trouble over the other call.’

The voice faded, and Alleyn caught only the end of the sentence…‘a cobber of mine…all the back numbers…quick as I can make it.’

‘Three minutes, Mr Losse,’ said the operator. ‘Will I extend the call?’

‘Yes—No! All right, Wetherbridge. Splendid. I’ll wait.’