‘You’ve got to do this, Ed.’ She came close to the carter and muttered at him in witch-like tones. Ed started back. He looked horrified.

‘Not me! Not me!’ he protested.

‘Oh, nonsense, Ed. And it must be tonight. We’ll let Will know what we intend. Get up on Moonlighter again, and off we go!’

There was a telephone message at the manor. Deborah had taken it. It came from the Chief Constable. Emming and Tiny were expected to return that afternoon.

‘I hoped so,’ said Mrs Bradley. ‘This is our last chance. First we must disinter the dogs and get a post-mortem for traces of the belladonna. Secondly, we must make certain of Mrs Emming’s safety, particularly as she will be needed at the trial. Thirdly, we must carefully coach Ed Brown in the part he has to play tonight.’

‘I can’t see what those two went to London for. They could have conferred here,’ said Jonathan.

‘They’ve been making arrangements to leave the country and go to South America,’ said Deborah. ‘The police have knowledge of that.’

‘Oh, I see; and they’re coming back here to pack up, I suppose? Well, that suits us all very nicely.’

Disinterring the dogs was a grim task. Will North and the staunch Woottons performed it under Mrs Bradley’s eye and under Ed’s directions. Tiny’s unfortunate pets were barely identifiable, but the vet from Cheltenham, called into consultation, swore to the horrid remains as being those of a setter and a bull-terrier, and the equally disagreeable relics of two cats proved that these had indubitably been Manx.

‘And there won’t be any doubt about the poison,’ said Mrs Bradley, when Will had tidied up his cemetery and nothing remained to mark the empty graves except the freshly dug, loamy soil. ‘And now for Mrs Emming.’

It was getting towards dusk when she and her nephew, accompanied by the Inspector and a policeman, reached the lonely cottage. The woman had lighted the lamp and drawn the blinds. Her head was silhouetted against the light. She started nervously when the Inspector tapped on the window.

‘Go round to the front!’ she called. ‘I didn’t expect you back yet. I thought you said the seven o’clock train, and back to your lodgings.’

‘I don’t think we’re quite the visitors you thought,’ said the Inspector, when she opened the door. ‘I am a police officer and I’ve called to ask you a few questions.’

He pushed gently past her into the cottage. The others remained outside, but the door remained open and the conversation could be heard clearly. Mrs Bradley knew the Inspector to be an efficient, hardworking officer, but she had not suspected him of guile.