‘Damned if I know,’ he said. ‘And you know that female who claims to have been his wife? Well, she came here yesterday to show me her marriage lines. I told her roundly, and not mincing my words, that they were a forgery. She kept calm and said that she could prove differently. I told her to go to hell with her proofs, but I’m pretty certain, somehow, she’s telling the truth. One thing, I’m not in actual need of poor old Bill’s bits and pieces, otherwise I’d be inclined to fight her. As it is, if the lawyers pass her off as Bill’s lawful wedded, I suppose I’ve had it. Oh, well. That’s life, all right. But I think Bill might have told me he was married!’

He lit another cigarette and puffed at it, frowning thoughtfully.

‘If anything more should occur to you,’ suggested Mrs Bradley, ‘I wish you would tell me what it is.’ Tiny nodded. Talking through the cigarette, he said:

‘Sure. If there’s anything to tell, I’ll tell it fast enough. But I shall tell it to the police, you know. I don’t like amateurs muddling about with crime.’

Mrs Bradley took this delicate hint as a sign that her host would be glad if she would terminate her visit. She rose as if to go.

‘I hope nothing happens to Mrs Clarence Fullalove,’ she said distinctly; and had the satisfaction of seeing Tiny’s jaw drop, so that the cigarette fell to the floor. She cackled harshly. ‘And one more thing,’ she added. ‘Are you the practical joker who tied a balloon on to the ghost-gate at the top of Groaning Spinney?’

‘No, I’m not. Sounds a kid’s trick.’

‘I’m pretty sure whose trick it was, and it seems rather like the “ghost” that your friends Mr Mansell and Mr Obury saw on Christmas Eve, after your cousin had been to see my nephew.’

‘A balloon?’ said Tiny. ‘I shouldn’t think that would deceive Obury and Mansell. At least, it might deceive Obury – he believes in ghosts!—’

‘Don’t you believe in ghosts, Mr Fullalove?’

‘Good heavens, no! Why should I?’

‘I thought that perhaps long residence in India—’

‘Look here,’ said Tiny uneasily, ‘what are you getting at?’

‘At some tales Ed Brown has to tell.’

‘Oh, Brown! He’s half-baked!’

‘Is he? I hadn’t realized that. Oh, well! By the way, there seems no doubt that your cousin died of cold and exposure, just as was thought at first.’

‘Then what did you mean by asking me—?’

‘Nothing at all. Just one more question, and then I can go back to London: where, on the estate, were those children from the Church choir?’

‘The little devils I clouted? You can find out for yourself. I don’t see what business you have to come here and interrogate me.’