‘Am I Correct?’

“SERGEANTYOTI? I am Inspector Bonaparte.”

Dr Nott, the practised observer, noted the evidence of physical and mental virility, how the light gleamed on the black hair like newly broken coal. Yoti, who stood with military stiffness, said:

“Glad to see you, sir. This is Doctor Nott.”

Nott inclined his head, continuing to be intrigued by a name.

“The constable at the Station told me where to find you. Homicide?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh! Of little concern to me… unless…” The blue eyes were abruptly masked.“Unless the absence of an infant is in question.”

“The baby is missing,” Yoti said. “It could be the Fifth Baby.”

“Ah!” The grey velour was dropped on the table, andfascinated, Dr Nott watched slim fingers make the worst cigarette he had ever seen. “Could this murder be assumed to be an effect of the theft of a fifth infant?”

“Assumed, yes,” replied Yoti.

“Then the murder is within the assignment given me to locate the thief or thieves of several infants. Do you agree?”

The senior police officer stationed at Mitford hesitated before nodding assent, for, being a civil servant by training and by nature, it was natural to avoid wherever possible the awful bugbear-responsibility.

“I am pleased you are willing to concede so much,” Bony went on, and puffed out the match. “Fourkidnappings, and not a lead gained by the CID, and now the fifth… assumed… supported by a murder which, also assumed, wasn’t premeditated and thus should give a dozen leads. Having one lead in hand, I require but one more. You are about to leave, Doctor? Please delay a moment until I learn the meagre details from Sergeant Yoti.”