The local superintendent of the County Constabulary welcomed Labar eagerly. Episodes of this kind were rare among the placid routine of work in a country district. He was a lean, tall, not unintelligent man, with mild watery eyes, and a gruff voice. Although nominally his rank was superior, the advent of a chief detective inspector from Scotland Yard was something of an event.

He gripped Labar’s hand sturdily. “Glad to meet you. Perhaps we’ll be able to twist some sense out of this nightmare now. You don’t know what’s happened to Mrs. Gertstein, I suppose?”

“She’s gone?” exclaimed the inspector. “Well, I might have expected it.”