‘I just have one or two questions,’ I said. ‘You’ll have to forgive me if they seem rather strange, or disconnected – this investigation has, as you know, grown more complex.’

‘I see. Well, I will help in any way I can,’ he said.

‘I would like to see the constable’s body again,’ I said.

‘I’m afraid that’s impossible. His funeral was yesterday, Inspector. I’m terribly sorry, I assumed you’d known.’

‘A small service at the church?’

‘Exactly so.’

I pretended to make a note of this.

Eder frowned. ‘He was buried in a family plot; the Webbers are a well-respected part of this community, Inspector.’

The mayor’s implication was clear: I was not to trouble the constable’s grave or those of his forebears. I had absolutely no desire to exhume the constable, but it served my purpose to let Eder believe he had won a small victory. I did my best to appear disappointed.

‘I would have liked to examine the constable a final time,’ I said. ‘But at least I have my own observations, and those of two excellent witnesses.’

‘Witnesses?’

‘Yourself and Victor, of course,’ I said. ‘Should I need statements regarding what befell the constable.’

‘Of course. Victor is… developing into quite an extraordinary boy. A shame the same cannot be said for my eldest daughter, Louisa.’

‘I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting Louisa.’

‘No,’ Eder said. ‘I should not be so unfair. But my eldest child is less gregarious than young Victor, and less forthright than Julia. You shall meet the whole family, of course, on Friday; Margarete is very much looking forward to hearing news of the capital.’

‘I hope I do not disappoint as a dinner guest.’ I turned to a blank page in my notebook. ‘Were all three children born during the night? That is to say, were they born of Margarete herself or her day-sister?’

‘All night births, I’m glad to say. We’ve been very fortunate to avoid that complication. Though Julia was cutting it close – I remember the first light of dawn graced the room, just as she urinated all over the carpet!’ Eder laughed without removing his pipe.

I made a quick note of the Eder family tree. I looked up and smiled. ‘Do you, by any chance, know a Second Lieutenant Matherson?’

‘Know a Second Lieutenant? No,’ he said, ‘I can’t say I do.’

I knew he was lying. It wasn’t that he was a poor liar, quite the contrary: he was smooth in his delivery of the falsehood – a smoothness that was obviously in keeping with his position. I felt certain because he questioned the rank, not the name. What was not clear, and what I could not push him to discover, was why he was lying. A small development, but an interesting one.

‘I believe some of the officers from Fort Seeben visited your town on occasion,’ I said.

‘Well, of course, we show the King’s Dragoons nothing less than the hospitality you yourself have experienced.’