'Mr Voke was highly recommended,' added Tomkins, 'so we put our trust in him. He sent us a series of sketches and my wife chose the one that she wanted. We didn't want to buy a pig in a poke.'

'Do you still have the sketch, sir?' asked Stockdale. 'It would be helpful to know exactly what we're looking for.'

'It's in the library, Superintendent. I'll get it for you.'

As Tomkins went out, Stockdale turned to the still fuming Winifred. Nothing but the instant return of her coffee pot would placate her. The murder did not somehow impinge on her consciousness.

'Mrs Tomkins,' he began, 'Inspector Colbeck pointed out that whoever stole your coffee pot must have been aware of the time of its arrival in the town. They knew exactly when to strike. Is there anyone of your acquaintance in whom you confided such a detail?'

She was enraged. 'Are you suggesting that one of my friends is a thief?' she cried. 'Our social circle is above reproach.'

'I realise that. But if you'd described the item to anyone and told them when it would be delivered, they might accidentally have let slip that information to someone else.'

'That's quite out of the question.'

'Somebody must have known,' he pointed out. 'Think carefully, Mrs Tomkins. Who did you tell? I know, for instance, that you number Sir David and Lady Pryde among your acquaintances.'

'Not any more,' she rejoined with controlled vehemence. 'Lady Pryde has proved herself unworthy of my friendship. She is no longer welcome here. However,' she said as a thought struck her, 'she did see the sketch of the coffee pot and knew when it would be coming. And she has always had an acquisitive streak. Not that I'm accusing her, mind you,' she added, hurriedly, 'but it might be worth bearing her name in mind.'

'Is that the only name you can offer me?'