He was on a direct route for his destination and waited at the bus stop, dumping his case on the ground until the right bus came along. He climbed aboard, sat near the door, tucked his case under his legs and paid his fare.

The man who had been behind him in the queue heard him give the destination and gave the same one.

At twenty-six minutes to six a message came through to Alleyn.

‘Subject left lodging house carrying suitcase with old Aeroflot labels. Followed to address suggested and is still there.’

To which he received a reply. ‘Keep obbo. No arrest but don’t lose him.’

III

‘It’s one thing,’ said Alleyn that evening, ‘to have the whole case wrapped up in the copper’s mind and to be absolutely sure, as I am, who’s responsible; and it’s an entirely different matter to get a jury to believe it. God knows it’s a tangle, and can’t you hear counsel for the defence? “Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, you have listened very patiently to this – this impudent tarradiddle,” and so on. I’ve been hoping for something to break – the man himself, perhaps – but there’s nothing. Nothing.’

Fox made a long sympathetic rumbling sound.

‘I’ve read and re-read the whole case from the beginning, and to me it’s as plain as the nose on your old face, Br’er Fox, but I’m damned if it will be to anybody else. It’s too far removed from simple, short statements although, God knows, they are there. I don’t know. You’ve got the warrant. Shall we walk in and feel his collar or shan’t we?’

‘We’re not likely to pick up anything else if we don’t.’

‘No. No, we’re not, I suppose.’

His telephone rang.

As Alleyn listened and made notes, his face cleared.

‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘I think so. I freely confess I didn’t notice…It may be considerable…I see…Thank you, Peregrine,’ he said again and hung up, pushing the paper over to Fox who had assumed his spectacles in preparation. ‘This helps,’ he said.

‘Certainly does,’ Fox agreed.

‘I never noticed.’

‘You didn’t know there was going to be a murder.’

‘Well, no. But nor did young Robin. Lay on a car and a couple of coppers, will you, Fox?’

He took a pair of handcuffs from a drawer in his desk.

‘Think he’ll turn ugly?’ asked Fox.

‘I don’t know. He might. Come on.’

They went down in the lift.

It was a warm early summer’s night. The car was waiting for them and Alleyn gave the address to the driver. He and Fox sat in front and the two uniform police in the back.

‘It’s an arrest,’ Alleyn said. ‘I don’t expect much trouble but you never know. The Macbeth murder.’