‘Look here,’ said the Chief Constable, ‘I’ll tell you what. You set to work quietly and track down this village pest and we’ll force her into the open with her proofs. You don’t want a lot of policemen nosey-parkering their way round the place. Our bird would soon smell a rat, and might go to earth.’

Mrs Bradley, who was privileged to overhear this startling metaphor, cackled with deep appreciation.

‘Ah, yes,’ said the Chief Constable. ‘The very person! What has morbid psychology to say about this anonymous scandalmonger, Mrs B.?’

‘Plenty,’ Mrs Bradley replied. ‘It is a pity that you can’t issue a general search-warrant so that you could find that typewriter. There are several significant features which, put together, could only belong to one individual machine, and that machine, I may add, is not the one in this house.’

‘Yes, but we’ve no power to issue such a warrant. Besides, I don’t want those kind of practical suggestions from you. I want to know what’s behind these letters. What makes people sit down and write ’em? … apart from the general human desire to see what happens when you start a bit of muck-raking, I mean, or touch off a bomb.’

‘Often the letter-writer is airing a grievance against society. Sometimes he is externalizing a personal hatred or jealousy. Often he is a person with too much time on his hands. Sometimes …’

‘But in this case?’

‘In this case I have the definite impression that a crime lies behind all this. We may be looking for a murderer, and therefore the anonymous letter-writer …’

‘You really believe that? … That Fullalove was murdered? Well, look here, then! If I get a shred of real evidence that anything fishy (apart from the letters, of course) is going on, I’ll apply for an exhumation order.’

‘Is that a promise?’ demanded Jonathan.

‘Yes, it is,’ said the Chief Constable, after a moment’s thought. Mrs Bradley cackled.

‘You won’t need to keep it, child,’ she said.

‘Why not?’ asked the Chief Constable, studying her expression and changing his own to one of anxiety.

‘Because there is no question of shreds of evidence. You’ll find that your hand will be forced. You will have to get that body exhumed and examined.’

‘And why?’

‘Because I am quite sure that whether anybody knows anything definite about the manner of Mr Bill Fullalove’s death, there is something criminal connected with Mrs Dalby Whittier’s disappearance.’

‘Well, Scotland Yard have taken that over. Her letter to us, as you know, was posted in London. The point is – is Tiny Fullalove involved?’