“But the blood on the floor… all about the body!” objected the sergeant.

“Oh, of course, the blood!”Bony agreed calmly. “Was anything done to establish if it was human blood or animal blood? Of course not. The man lay in blood, and therefore it must be his own blood. So say Detective Sergeant Redman, and you, and others. Well, well, you may all be forgiven for believing that Kendall lay in his own blood. But first things first. Allow me to introduce myself.

“I never arrive on the scene of a crime, the investigation of which has baffled others, in my official uniform and accompanied by experts. Most often no one outside police circles knows what I am and cares less who I am. Publicity is not my forte. As my own chief commissioner says so very often that repetition of the obvious wearies me, I am not a policeman’s bootlace. But, Marshall, I am an investigator of violent crime in Australia’s outback, and so here I am about to investigate the murder of Stockman Kendall. Now tell me about yourself. How long have you been stationed at this district?”

“Eleven years, sir. A long time.”

“You didn’t get along too well with Redman, did you?”

“Well, no, sir, I didn’t,” Marshall admitted, his mind instantly imagining an adverse report on him by Detective Sergeant Redman. “You see-”

Bony cut in, nodding his head to emphasize his words:

“Yes, I know. Redman is a city man. He has no bush background like you and me, and Gleeson, your constable. Redman is used to bullying loose women and thieves for information. We have had to use our grey matter and obtain our information from such things as sand and birds and tracks. Wouldn’t you like a change to a big town or city?”