‘I’m sorry to trouble you, Mrs Emming,’ he said, ‘but we’ve had an enquiry through from Scotland Yard about two gentlemen who seem in rather a hurry to get out of the country. As their objective seems to be South America, which is quite a long way from here …’

She did not question the title he had given her, and she did not allow him to finish.

‘The dirty, double-crossing little …!’ she screamed. ‘He deserted me before and then found he’d got a use for me in his murdering monkey tricks! Get out of the country and do me down, would he! Not while I’ve got a tongue in my head to tell what I know, he damn well won’t! Him and his rascal of a father! Come-by-night and fly-by-night, will he? I’ll soon cure him of that, the …!’

Mrs Bradley touched her nephew’s arm. They walked back towards the village under the thin light of the pale, remote and early evening stars.

‘I think we can safely leave that to the Inspector and the constable,’ she said. ‘We have other fish to fry. Now, you understand your part, don’t you?’

‘Perfectly. I’m to get Tiny up to Groaning Spinney by ten tonight.’

‘Exactly. And Will North will be with you. I myself will tackle Mr Emming.’

‘My job will be easy. Tiny’s still my agent, and Will and I have only to report signs of fire-raisers and poachers.’

‘And Mr Emming will come with me whether willingly or not,’ said Mrs Bradley, with relish. ‘You to the bungalow, then, and I to the lodgings!’

‘You’ll look out for yourself, won’t you?’ said Jonathan, anxiously. ‘He’s a treacherous devil!’

‘I am not proposing to be particularly above-board myself,’ said Mrs Bradley. ‘I hope Will North has placed the lantern in the right spot.’

Arrived at Emming’s lodgings she asked when he was expected home.

‘He’s to be at Cheltenham at seven o’clock. I had a telegram.’ His landlady showed it proudly. ‘If he catches the bus all right at half-past seven I reckon he’ll be in to his supper before nine.’

‘Oh, well, will you please tell him that Mr Tiny Fullalove will meet him at the old place at ten o’clock tonight?’

‘Mr Tiny? At the old place?’

‘Yes.’

‘Be that all as I’m to tell ’im?’

‘Yes, please. You won’t forget, will you?’

‘Oh, no. I won’t forget. But I thought Mr Tiny were from ’ome?’

‘Is he? Anyway, that is the message for Mr Emming.’

She went straight from the village street to the College. It had taken some time to reach the village from Mrs Emming’s lonely cottage, and the evening was wearing on.