Walker sighed. "I don't think Daniel was the sort to want to be tied to a brewery for the rest of his life. I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd made a career of the Army. I remember how excited he was just before the war about Shackleton's journey to the Antarctic, and how pleased he was that the King encouraged Shackleton to go on with his plans even after war was declared." Changing the subject without appearing to, he pointed toward an ornate four-story building ahead. "That's The Fisherman's Arms Hotel. A little grand to call it that, but it's comfortable. They're keeping a room for you. I took the liberty of asking them, after I was told the Yard was sending someone to Eastfield."

Rutledge thanked him. "I'll go and register. But as soon as possible I want to see the statements you've collected thus far, and then speak to Dr. Gooding."

"It's best to catch the doctor after his midday meal. One o'clock? Will that suit you?"

"Yes, I'll come for you then," Rutledge answered as they reached his motorcar. Walker turned the crank for him, and he drove on to the hotel. There was space to park in the small yard to the far side, and the woman at the desk smiled when he gave his name.

"We've been expecting you, Mr. Rutledge," she said, as if he were a valued guest and not a policeman in their midst. He rather thought that Pierce's name had been used to secure a better choice of room.

Hamish said as Rutledge climbed the stairs to the second floor, "Ye ken, Mr. Pierce doesna' want the Hastings police called in for fear they'll look for his ither son."

"Yes, that's very likely," Rutledge agreed. "Scotland Yard has no prejudices."

The room faced the street rather than the yard, and it was large, airy, and comfortable. Rutledge set his valise in the wardrobe and went to the pitcher of cool water on the stand between the windows, where he washed his hands. As he was reaching for a towel to dry them, he heard a commotion in the street and looked out to see what was happening.