"It's rather more serious than that," said the Superintendent. "A man died at the Stag Inn last night. Perhaps you saw it in the papers?"

David shook his head.

"No, I didn't notice it. What about him?"

"He didn't only die. He was killed. His head was smote in as a matter of fact."

A half-choked exclamation came from Rosaleen. David said quickly:

"Please, Superintendent, don't enlarge on any details. My sister is delicate. She can't help it, but if you mention blood and horrors she'll probably faint."

"Oh, I'm sorry," said the Superintendent. "But there wasn't any blood to speak of. It was murder right enough, though."

He paused. David's eyebrows went up.

He said gently:

"You interest me. Where do we come in?"

"We hoped you might be able to tell us something about this man, Mr Hunter."

"I?"

"You called to see him on Saturday evening last. His name - or the name he was registered under - was Enoch Arden."

"Yes, of course. I remember now."

David spoke quietly, without embarrassment.

"Well, Mr Hunter?"

"Well, Superintendent, I'm afraid I can't help you. I know next to nothing about the man."

"Was his name really Enoch Arden?"

"I should very much doubt it."

"Why did you go to see him?"

"Just one of the usual hard luck stories. He mentioned certain places, war experiences, people -" David shrugged his shoulders. "Just a touch, I'm afraid. The whole thing was rather bogus."

"Did you give him any money, sir?"

There was a fractional pause and then David said:

"Just a fiver - for luck. He'd been in the war all right."

"He mentioned certain names that you knew?"

"Yes."

"Was one of those names Captain Robert Underhay?"

Now at last he got his effect. David stiffened. Behind him, Rosaleen gave a little frightened gasp.

"What makes you think that, Superintendent?" David asked at last. His eyes were cautious, probing.

"Information received," said the Superintendent stolidly.

There was a short silence. The Superintendent was aware of David's eyes, studying him, sizing him up, striving to know... He himself waited quietly.

"Any idea who Robert Underhay was, Superintendent?" David asked.

"Suppose you tell me, sir."

"Robert Underhay was my sister's first husband. He died in Africa some years ago."

"Quite sure of that, Mr Hunter?"

Spence asked quickly.

"Quite sure. That's so, isn't it, Rosaleen?"

He turned to her.

"Oh, yes." She spoke quickly and breathlessly. "Robert died of fever - blackwater fever. It was very sad."

"Sometimes stories get about that aren't quite true, Mrs Cloade."

She said nothing. She was looking not at him, but at her brother. Then, after a moment, she said:

"Robert's dead."

"From information in my possession," said the Superintendent, "I understand that this man, Enoch Arden, claimed to be a friend of the late Robert Underhay and at the same time informed you, Mr Hunter, that Robert Underhay was alive."

David shook his head.

"Nonsense," he said. "Absolute nonsense."

"You state definitely that the name of Robert Underhay was not mentioned?"