Leaving the motorcar where it was, they walked to Drum Street and the tall, mellowed brick facade of the brewery buildings. A large gold arrow had been affixed to the front of the main building under the name PIERCE BROTHERS, and Rutledge realized that this was the beer famous in three counties for its Rose of Picardy label.

They found the senior Pierce in his office, an old-fashioned but elegantly styled room in oak, with paintings of the founders on the walls and a large marble hearth that held pride of place to one side of the partners' desk by the windows.

A tall man stood up as Rutledge and Walker were admitted by an elderly clerk.

Scanning Rutledge's face, he came forward and said to Walker, "Good morning, Constable."

"This is Inspector Rutledge, Mr. Pierce. From Scotland Yard, as you requested."

Pierce held out his hand, and Rutledge shook it, saying, "I'm told you would prefer to tell me what's been happening here in Eastfield." He had kept his voice neutral, neither accepting Pierce's authority to do any such thing, nor disputing it.

Pierce led them to the chairs set out before the empty hearth. "I apologize for that, Mr. Rutledge. Constable Walker here has handled events so far with his usual skill, and I am grateful for that. It's just that I have a very personal stake in finding this madman. Two days ago my own son was his third victim. That doesn't make Anthony any more important than the other two victims, but William Jeffers's wife and Jimmy Roper's father aren't able to speak for themselves at this time. Their loss was as devastating as mine, but they are alone in their grief, and I have a staff at my disposal to see me through the next few weeks."

"I understand," Rutledge answered, without committing himself. Pierce was a man used to giving orders, and it was possible that Mrs. Jeffers and Jimmy Roper's father were grateful that he was taking charge.

Clearing his throat, as if to dispose of all emotion before he began, Pierce said, "The first Constable Walker, here, knew of Jeffers's death was sometime after midnight when a goods van, driven by one Sammy Black, came through Eastfield on his way to Hastings.