Well, there had probably been gravel here at some time. Now, it was hidden by the grass and weeds that had encroached from the shrubbery on either side. If the hall ever did get new owners, it would take quite a few doses of weedkiller to get this lot under control. Cooper could hear the stems of the couch grass scraping against the underside of the Toyota as he inched his way towards the first bend in the drive. He didn’t know how far the hall was from the road, but he expected a good view of it at some point. What he got instead was the sight of a figure standing in the middle of the driveway, waving madly.

‘What the heck is he doing?’

‘I don’t know. Is that the agent?’ said Fry.

‘I presume so. It looks as though he’s trying to tell us something.’

The man was signalling as if he wanted Cooper to go to the left. There was nowhere to turn off the drive, except into the bushes, so he skirted as close as he could to the edge.

‘Maybe there’s a pothole or something. I can’t see for this long grass.’

But it wasn’t a pothole. As they drew closer to the gesticulating figure, Cooper could see the decomposing body of a sheep lying on the driveway, its clean-pecked ribcage showing clearly through ragged tufts of wool.

Cooper wound down the window. ‘Mr Casey?’

‘Yes. Sorry about that. I didn’t want you to do what I did – I’m afraid I ran over the animal’s head before I’d noticed it.’

‘Don’t worry. We’ll not be charging you with anything. We can see the injuries were inflicted postmortem.’

Casey laughed nervously. ‘I don’t know how long it’s been lying there. It’s rather embarrassing, really. We’re supposed to be keeping an eye on the place and sorting out any problems, in case a prospective purchaser comes along. But we’ve been rather short-staffed, you see, and the place hasn’t been checked as often as it should.’

Cooper looked at the sheep again. He could see the remains of the crushed skull where Casey’s tyre had gone over it. But the animal was almost completely skeletonized, and the fleshless jaw bones and teeth grinned back at him knowingly. No one had checked here for months. Or, if they had, they hadn’t bothered to move the dead sheep. He could understand how that wouldn’t be too enticing for a buyer with a couple of million pounds in his pocket, looking for a smart country retreat.

‘Are there sheep grazing in the grounds of the hall, then?’ he said.

‘There aren’t supposed to be,’ said Casey. ‘This one probably belongs to a neighbouring farmer.’

‘Your fences must need some attention, then.’