“I’m sorry, no. It isn’t listed with Mr. Hardy’s effects. Taken from the scene by his murderer, we must assume. Now, Edith, regarding his attacker.” MacFarlane’s tone became less stiff, more confidential. He put down his pencil to indicate, with misleading intent, that her following statements would be off the record. “Think on, lass! I’m fancying his old army superior officer, Captain Richard Dunne—Dickie—for this one. Would that sound reasonable to you?”

To his surprise, she burst out laughing. “Dickie Dunne? Kill one of his own men? Not likely! Look here, Superintendent. I’ve never met Dickie Dunne, but I’ve heard all about him.” She rolled her eyes. “Too much about him! Abe was very uncertain when it came to the Captain. Loved him and hated him. Dickie was always his superior—man as well as officer—and that stuck in Abe’s craw. I really think Abe’s desperate attempts to make something of his life—preferably a large pile of money—were driven by rivalry. He always wanted to brag to Dickie that he’d made a better go of it in real life outside the army. It was his only chance to outrank him. But there was something more than just the jealousy . . .”

Her voice trailed away as she collated her memories and feelings. MacFarlane didn’t prompt her, realising that she was using him as a sane and sensible sounding board.

“There was something in their experience that had marked Abe. Like a mental scar. Something he kept quiet about—something he held Dickie responsible for. I can’t be certain, but I do know that he never let him go. He kept tabs on him, you know. Watched his progress through India and his further exploits in the recent war. When the day came that he discovered the Captain had taken to the roads and abandoned career and life, he rejoiced. Drank a whole bottle of Islay malt. Oh, Abe might well have killed Dickie Dunne, yes, but the man Abe described to me and logged over the years would never have killed one of his own men. He saved all their necks, you know. In Pretoria. Do you know?”

MacFarlane grunted, not wishing to stop her flow. “Carry on.”