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you to.’
    Realising that to ask who ‘they’ were was a waste of time, Carolus made a more determined move for the door.
    â€˜Good-bye, Mrs Gunning, and thank you again,’ he said with finality.
    â€˜I only hope you do find out what happened. I should sleep better at night if I knew.’
    Carolus managed to leave the bungalow, but Albert followed him to the yard.
    â€˜I tell you what, though, Mr Deene,’ he said. ‘I’d be careful if I was you. They’re a funny lot round here, and if they were to hear you’d been asking questions about them I wouldn’t put anything past them.’
    â€˜Thank you,’ said Carolus.
    â€˜I’ve no doubt you can look after yourself. But you have towatch out. I don’t like those people Lark up at the rectory, for one.’
    â€˜They’re new to these parts,’ said Carolus.
    Albert stared at him and Carolus thought there was a touch of hostility in his expression.
    â€˜There’s others,’ he said.
    â€˜Yes?’
    â€˜You know who I’ve always thought had something to do with it?’
    Carolus obligingly said, ‘Who?’
    â€˜That Horseman. If I could nail that bastard I’d kill him. I’m damn sure he was to blame for Cyril’s death.’
    â€˜You don’t think you’re prejudiced because he’s a stranger to Clibburn?’ asked Carolus, surprised at Albert’s sudden violence.
    â€˜No. I don’t. And I’ve got reason for what I say. That night, when I was going up to the Beacon, I met Horseman.’
    Carolus asked sharply, ‘Where?’
    â€˜Well, it was some way away from the Beacon, perhaps a quarter of a mile, but I’m pretty sure he’d come from there.’
    â€˜What time was this?’
    â€˜Must have been round about half-past three or four o’clock.’
    â€˜Was he alone?’
    â€˜Yes. He seemed to be in a hurry. He was carrying a suitcase.’
    â€˜A suitcase? Now that
is
extraordinary. Did you speak to him?’
    â€˜I asked him, of course, if he’d seen Cyril. He seemed sort of vague, as though he was thinking of something else. “Cyril?” he said. “Oh, your little boy. No, I haven’t seen him.” Then he hurried on.’
    â€˜Did you tell the police that?’
    â€˜Of course I did. And they took a note of it, but I never heard anything more. That’s the police for you. But the more I’ve thought of it the more I’m sure he was in it. I hate the bastard, anyway. If I could prove …’
    â€˜But you can’t, Albert. If ever there was a matter in whichwe shouldn’t jump to conclusions, it’s this one. Perhaps the whole truth will come out in time. Till then, I’d forget it if I were you.’
    A rather ugly expression crossed Albert’s normally good-natured face.
    â€˜Can’t do that,’ he said, as Carolus left him.

Six
    Back at the rectory he found Mrs Lark standing in the hall and had the impression she was waiting for him.
    â€˜There’s a p.c. for you,’ she said with a smile, ‘from Margate.’
    From her manner he might have supposed that the postcard was one of those so-called vulgar ones, still common in seaside places, a highly ambiguous text illustrated by a brightly coloured representation of fleshy women in old-fashioned bathing costumes and men in straw hats. But when she handed it to him he saw that it was a view showing a row of houses overlooking the sea with all propriety. ‘Our window’, as Carolus learned from a written note, was ‘marked with an X’. It was from the Sticks. ‘Having a nice rest here,’ he learned from the text, ‘and hope you are doing the same. Stick has been shrimping. Yours respectfully, Mr and Mrs Stick.’
    â€˜My housekeeper and her husband,’ Carolus said to Mrs Lark, who seemed to expect some explanation and had obviously read the