'Yes, I do.'

The physician's eyes narrowed and Corbett realized that, despite his bluff manner Giles Selditch was a shrewd man, and one not easily swayed by popular opinion.

'Who saw the horse return?' Corbett asked.

'Two villagers. They recognized the baker's horse. The rider was sitting sidesaddle. Of course, it was dark and the villagers stood aside, lowering their eyes because, as I have said, neither the baker nor his wife was popular in the village.'

'Where was this?' Corbett asked.

'On the trackway just outside Hunstanton. But, before you ask,' Selditch continued, 'by the time the horse entered the village the mysterious rider had disappeared. That's why we think it's murder.' Selditch smiled at the priest. 'I thank you for your support, Father. If it had not been for you, those ignorant buggers would have desecrated the poor woman's corpse even further.'

'Don't be so harsh,' the priest said. 'Hunstanton is an isolated place and its people live in each other's pockets. What happens in one house is soon known in another. But they are a close and secretive people. I have been here, oh, almost two years, and I am still not fully accepted.'

'So, you are not from these parts, Father?'

'No, no, I am not. I was born and raised in Bishop's Lynn.' The priest smiled sourly. 'His Grace the Bishop of Norwich has sent me here for my sins. Now, I really must retire…'

Monck got to his feet. He stretched till his muscles cracked and yawned loudly. Father Augustine rose also. Corbett, heavy-eyed, bade both of them good night and went up to his own chamber. Ranulf and Maltote lay on their beds snoring blissfully. Corbett pulled a rug over each of them then went and stood by the window. He stared out into the misty, cold night.

'Strange murders,' he murmured. 'People with secrets.' He remembered the physician's ink-stained fingers. I must talk to Selditch,' he muttered. 'He seems to know the secrets of these parts.'