‘It’s not positive,’ Alleyn said; ‘but you’d better warn your tame J.P. about the warrant in case we need it in a hurry. We’ll get along with the job now. Put a call through to Brierley and Bentwood, will you, Oliphant? Here’s the number. Ask for Mr Timothy Bentwood and give my name.’

He listened while Sergeant Oliphant put the call through and noticed abstractedly that he did this in a quiet and business-like manner.

Alleyn said: ‘If Bentwood will play, this should mean the clearing up of Chapter 7.’

Fox raised a massive finger and they both listened to Oliphant.

‘Oh yerse?’ Oliphant was saying. ‘Yerse? Will you hold the line, sir, while I inquire?’

‘What is it?’ Alleyn demanded sharply.

Oliphant placed the palm of his vast hand over the mouthpiece. ‘Mr Bentwood, sir,’ he said, ‘is in hospital. Would you wish to speak to his secretary?’

‘Damnation, blast and bloody hell!’ Alleyn said. ‘No, I wouldn’t. Thank you, Oliphant. Come on, Fox. That little game’s gone cold. We’d better get moving. Oliphant, if we can spare the time we’ll get something to eat at the Boy and Donkey, but, on the way, we’ll make at least one call.’ His finger again hovered over the list. The sergeant followed its indication.

‘At Uplands?’ he said. ‘Commander Syce?’

‘Yes,’ Alleyn said. ‘Have everything laid on, and if you get a signal from me come at once with suitable assistance. It’ll mean an arrest. Come on, Fox.’

He was very quiet on the way back over Watt’s Hill.

As they turned the summit and approached Jacob’s Cottage, they saw Mr Phinn leaning over his gate with a kitten on his shoulder.

Alleyn said: ‘It might as well be now as later. Let’s stop.’

Fox pulled up by the gate and Alleyn got out. He walked over to the gate and Mr Phinn blinked at him.

‘Dear me, Chief Inspector,’ he said, taking the kitten from his neck and caressing it, ‘how very recurrent you are. Quite decimalite, to coin an adjective.’

‘It’s our job, you know,’ Alleyn said mildly. ‘You’ll find we do tend to crop up.’