He was his usual neat self when he emerged to seek Malone. The sergeant was standing at the door of one of the less fashionable inns puffing at a disreputable briar pipe, and making non-helpful suggestions to a lad who was perspiring over the bonnet of an old Ford car.

Malone moved along the cobbled street to meet the inspector. “Bit late last night, weren’t you, guv’nor? I waited till twelve o’clock for you and then turned in. Just thinking about another start when Barney there has coaxed the old Lizzie into a reasonable frame of mind. The places I took her over yesterday were worse than a toothache.”

Labar caught him by the arm. “Let’s walk a little way, Bill. I want you to go to the local police station with me. You can do some talking while I get on to the phone to the Yard.”