I nodded. “I was at home by a quarter past nine,” I said. “I didn’t go out again until I received the telephone call.”

“Who could have been with him at half-past nine?” queried the inspector. “It wasn’t you, Mr. ⁠—er⁠—”

“Major Blunt,” I said.

“Major Hector Blunt?” asked the inspector, a respectful tone creeping into his voice.

Blunt merely jerked his head affirmatively.

“I think we’ve seen you down here before, sir,” said the inspector. “I didn’t recognize you for the moment, but you were staying with Mr. Ackroyd a year ago last May.”

“June,” corrected Blunt.