Rowley said thoughtfully:

"Of course he was a cocksure sort of a bloke - but all the same I wouldn't have turned my back with a fellow in the room whom I was trying to bleed white and who'd done some pretty tough fighting in the war. Arden can't have been a very cautious sort of chap."

"If he had been cautious very likely he'd be alive now," said the Superintendent dryly.

"I wish to God he was," said Rowley fervently. "As it is I feel I've mucked things up thoroughly. If only I hadn't got on my high horse and stalked off, I might have got something useful out of him. I ought to have pretended that we were in the market, but the thing's so damned silly. I mean, who are we to bid against Rosaleen and David? They've got the cash. None of us could raise five hundred pounds between us."

The Superintendent picked up the gold lighter.

"Seen this before?"

A crease appeared between Rowley's brows. He said slowly:

"I've seen it somewhere, yes, but I can't remember where. Not very long ago. No - I can't remember."

Spence did not give the lighter into Rowley's outstretched hand. He put it down and picked up the lipstick, unsheathing it from its case.

"And this?"

Rowley grinned.

"Really, that's not in my line. Superintendent."

Thoughtfully, Spence smeared a little on the back of his hand. He put his head on one side, studying it appreciatively.

"Brunette colouring, I should say," he remarked.

"Funny things you policemen know," said Rowley. He got up. "And you don't - definitely do not - know who the dead man was?"

"Have you any idea yourself, Mr Cloade?"

"I only wondered," said Rowley slowly. "I mean - this fellow was our only clue to Underhay. Now that he's dead - well, looking for Underhay is going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack."

"There'll be publicity, Mr Cloade," said Spence. "Remember that in due course a lot of this will appear in the press. If Underhay is alive and comes to read about it - well, he may come forward."

"Yes," said Rowley doubtfully. "He may."

"But you don't think so?"

"I think," said Rowley Cloade, "that Round One has gone to David Hunter."

"I wonder," said Spence. As Rowley went out, Spence picked up the gold lighter and looked at the initials D.H. on it. "Expensive bit of work," he said to Sergeant Graves. "Not mass produced. Quite easily identified. Greatorex or one of those Bond Street places. Have it seen to!"

"Yes, sir."

Then the Superintendent looked at the wrist-watch - the glass was smashed and the hands pointed to ten minutes past nine.

He looked at the Sergeant.

"Got the report on this. Graves?"

"Yes, sir. Mainspring's broken."

"And the mechanism of the hands?"

"Quite all right, sir."

"What, in your opinion. Graves, does the watch tell us?"

Graves murmured warily, "Seems as though it might give us the time the crime was committed."