‘That’s all right,’ said Jonathan lightly. ‘As a matter of fact, we came on business. At least, I did. Can you tell me anything about the fencing at the foot of Deepdene Spur? I thought it was agreed with Daventry that it was his job to renew it. You know the place I mean. Mrs Dalby Whittier’s body was found not far from the middle of it.’

‘Yes, I know,’ Tiny responded. ‘As a matter of fact, Bradley, and strictly between ourselves, I’m not too well satisfied about Mrs Whittier’s death. I’ve a moderate hunch that it was suicide.’

‘Really?’ said Mrs Bradley, turning with great interest to the speaker. ‘And what gives you that idea, Mr Fullalove?’

‘Well,’ said Tiny, ‘it’s only an idea, of course, but I do know that she was being pestered by that anonymous letter-writer, because she showed me one of the letters and asked my advice. She seemed terribly worried, and when I heard that her body had been found right away from any possible road to the bus stop, don’t you know, I couldn’t help being puzzled. I mean, why should she wander off like that? It wasn’t really dark when she set out, and she knew the way as well as I do myself.’

‘What communication was received from the friends she was supposed to visit in London? Do you know?’ Mrs Bradley enquired. But Tiny was not to be drawn into contradictions.

‘I haven’t the foggiest idea. Nothing’s come here. Naturally, tied up in that nursing home as I was, I’ve had very little opportunity for knowing anything much about it,’ he replied. ‘Her death was a shock, of course, especially coming right on top of poor old Bill—’

‘But not the same kind of death,’ said Mrs Bradley.

‘No. But the weather – I mean, it wasn’t such a coincidence, I suppose.’

‘Well, I thought it was, rather,’ said Jonathan. Tiny turned his small, intelligent, green eyes on him.

‘Well, I know what you mean, of course,’ he said. ‘You mean it wasn’t snowing when the poor old girl set out. She must have decided to come back for something after Christmas, I suppose, and just couldn’t make it in the snow. That’s if she ever went to London.’ He turned his head away, and there was silence until Jonathan said, not very kindly:

‘Well, we just thought we’d look you up as we were out for a stroll. How long will it be before you can manage without – those?’ He pointed to the rubber-shod sticks.

‘Well, not just yet, of course. Still, I’m hoping. I’ve got to have exercises soon – to make sure the articulation is going to be all right, you know.’

‘May I look at your knee?’ asked Mrs Bradley.