‘I once had a somewhat unusual meeting with someone from Walwyk,’ he said in a reminiscent voice. ‘I’ve just remembered it. Quite a while back, during the war. Yes, it must have been during the war, because I was traveling to Wandford by train – we have another business there. I was on the early train, and I heard some kind of altercation going on, and what sounded like a woman crying, so I went along and found the ticket inspector and a young woman who had no ticket and no money. I . . . I supplied the deficiency and afterwards talked to the girl – she was about eighteen, I suppose. She told me she’d lived in Walwyk all her life and hated it.’

‘Why did she hate it?’

‘Oh, she said life was so dull. That didn’t seem to me to be quite an adequate reason for leaving so precipitately that she had brought neither money nor luggage; but if she had another, she kept it to herself.’

‘You wouldn’t, of course, remember her name?’

‘Her name?’ He sounded surprised. ‘No, she never told me that, unfortunately, as it turned out. You see, I insisted upon fending her some trifling sum – she really was too pretty to be cast on the world penniless – and she must either have known me by sight or made some inquiry; for about five or six months later the exact sum was sent to me by Postal Order. No name, no address, just the Wandford postmark. I should, of course, have sent it back had I known where to send it.’

‘What did she look like?’

Once more Mr Freeman was surprised. He had told his little story partly to keep the conversation going and partly to show himself in a kindly light. His listener seemed to be extremely, almost unduly interested.

‘She was pretty, as I said. Oh, and delicate-looking. In fact, she did say that she had tried to escape Walwyk by joining one of the women’s forces, but had been rejected as physically unfit. Pale . . . fair-haired . . .’ He frowned in his effort to remember. ‘Oh, and she had those slightly projecting teeth which don’t sound attractive but actually can be, in the right face. Why? Do you know anything of her?’

It sounds like Maud Rigby. Oh, how I wish she had told you her real reason for leaving home. It would have helped me to . . .’

In what way would it have helped you?’

I might have been nearer to understanding something.’ She looked into his kind but worldly-wise eyes and thought, Here is someone in whom I could confide. ‘I’m sorry I blurted out the name. If I hadn’t, I could have told you what is worrying me, keeping it all anonymous.’