'Who?' asked the guard.

'Him – in there.'

'What's up?' asked Horlock, reaching the carriage.

The policeman pointed. 'See for yourself, Sam.'

He stood back so that Horlock and Galway could peer in through the door. Propped up in the far corner was a stout middle-aged man in nondescript clothing with his hat at a rakish angle. His eyes were open and there was an expression of disbelief on his face. A noisome stench confirmed that he had soiled himself. Galway was outraged. Horlock stepped quickly into the carriage and shook the passenger by the shoulder so that his hat fell off.

'Time to get out now, sir,' he said, firmly.

But the man was in no position to go anywhere. His body fell sideward and his head lolled back, exposing a thin crimson ring around his throat. The blood had seeped on to his collar and down the inside of his shirt. When he set out from London, the passenger was looking forward to witnessing a memorable event. Somewhere along the line, he had become a murder victim.

'This is dreadful!' cried Tod Galway, recoiling in horror.

'Yes,' said Horlock, a wealth of sympathy in his voice. 'The poor devil will never know who won that fight now.'

CHAPTER TWO

When the summons came, Inspector Robert Colbeck was at Scotland Yard, studying the report he had just written about his last case. He abandoned it at once and hurried along the corridor. Superintendent Tallis was not a man who liked to be kept waiting. He demanded an instant response from his detectives. Colbeck found him in his office, seated behind his desk, smoking a cigar and poring over a sheet of paper. Tallis spoke to his visitor without even looking up.

'Don't sit down, Inspector. You're not staying long.'

'Oh?'

'You'll be catching a train to Twyford.'

'In Berkshire?'

'I know of no other,' said Tallis, raising his eyes. 'Do you?'