She said: 'Ernie murdered? I don't believe it!"

"Oh, don't be silly," he said, betraying ragged nerves. "A man doesn't bash his own skull in."

She gave a whimper, and groped her way to the nearest chair, and sank into it. Neville lit a cigarette with a hand that trembled, and said: "Sorry, but you had to know sooner or later."

She seemed to be trying to collect her wits. After a pause she exclaimed: "But who would want to murder dear Ernie?"

"Search me."

"There has been some dreadful mistake! Oh, Ernie, Ernie!"

She burst into tears. Neville, attempting no consolation, sat down in a large armchair opposite to her, and smoked.

Meanwhile, in the study, PC Glass was making his painstaking report to his superior. The doctor had gone; the cameramen had taken their photographs; and the body of Ernest Fletcher had been removed.

"I was on my beat, Sergeant, walking along Vale Avenue, the time being 10.02 p.m. When I came to the corner of Maple Grove, which, as you know, sir, is the lane running between Vale Avenue and the Arden Road, at the back of the house, my attention was attracted by a man coming out of the side gate of this house in what seemed to me a suspicious manner. He set off, walking very fast, towards the Arden Road."

"Would you know him again?"

"No, Sergeant. It was nearly dark, and I never saw his face. He had turned the corner into Arden Road before I had time to do more than wonder what he was up to." He hesitated, frowning a little. "As near as I could make out, he was a man of average height, wearing a lightcoloured soft hat. I don't know what gave me the idea there was something wrong about his coming out of Mr. Fletcher's garden-gate, unless it was the hurry he seemed to be in. The Lord led my footsteps."