“I was a bit surprised to see him, sir, because Sam doesn’t usually come along until eight, unless it happens to be Thursday, when he closes early. ‘Hullo, Sam, you’re on time tonight,’ I says, jocular like. ‘Oh, I’ve only come in for a drink,’ he says; ‘The bottle’s empty at home, and I couldn’t scrounge one from old Ludgrove opposite, he’s away.’ He has a double, and goes back to his shop. The bar was pretty nigh empty till about seven, when a fellow comes in and tells me about the murder.”

Inspector Whyland deftly turned the conversation. He knew that if he questioned the man his suspicions would be aroused, and this he was anxious to avoid. Without any appearance of haste he finished his drink and left the premises. Once round the corner, he walked swiftly to the spot where Richard Pargent had been murdered, counting his paces as he went.