‘That helps us a lot,’ said Kirk. ‘Mr Noakes ate his supper at 7.30, so presumably he was alive then.’ He glanced at Peter, but Peter was offering no further embarrassing suggestions about murderers who ate their victims’ suppers, and the Superintendent was encouraged to proceed. ‘He didn’t go to bed, so that gives us-When did he usually go to bed, Mrs Ruddle, do you know?’

‘Eleven o’clock, Mr Kirk, reg’lar as clockwork, ‘e’d switch off the wireless and I’d see ‘is candle go upstairs to bed. I can see ‘is bedroom from my back winder, plain enough.’

‘Ah! now, Mrs Ruddle, just you cast your mind back to Wednesday night. Do you recollect seeing his candle go upstairs to bed?’

‘Well, there!’ exclaimed Mrs Ruddle, ‘now you comes to mention of it, Mr Kirk, I did not. Which I remember saying to my Bert only the next day, “There,” I says, “if I’d only kep’ awake, I mighter known ‘e’d gone off, alonger seein’ ‘is bedroom winder dark. But there!” I says, “I was that wore out, I dropped off the moment me ‘ead was on the piller.”’

‘Oh, well,’ said Kirk, disappointed, ‘it don’t really matter. Seeing as his bed wasn’t slept in, it’s likely he was downstairs when ‘

(Thank God! thought Peter. Not in my lady’s chamber.)

Mrs Ruddle interrupted with a sharp screech. ‘Oh. lor, Mr Kirk! There now!’

‘Have you thought of something?’

Mrs Ruddle had, and her expression, as her eyes wandered from Kirk to Sellon and then to Peter, indicated that it was not only important but alarming.

‘Why, of course. I dunno how it didn’t come into me ‘ead before, but I been that moithered with all these dretful things a-’appenin’. ‘Course, come to think of it if ‘e wasn’t off by the ‘bus, then ‘e must a-been dead afore ‘ar-pas’-nine.’

The constable’s hand paused in its note-taking. Kirk said sharply: ‘What makes you think that?’

‘W’y, ‘is wireless wasn’t a-workin’, and I says to Bert-’

‘Just a minute. What’s all this about the wireless?’

‘W’y, Mr Kirk, if Mr Noakes ‘ad been ‘ere alive, ‘e wouldn’t a-missed the 9.30 noos, not if it was ever so. ‘E set great store by the last noos, pore soul-though wot good it done ‘im I don’t know. And I recollects sayin’ to Bert last Wednesday night as ever was, “Funny thing,” I says, “Mr Noakes ain’t got ‘is wireless goin’ tonight. That ain’t like ‘im,” I says.’

‘But you couldn’t hear his wireless from your cottage with all these doors and windows shut?’; Mrs Ruddle licked her lips.

‘Well, I won’t deceive you, Mr Kirk.’ She swallowed, and then went on as volubly as ever; her eye avoided the Superintendent’s and fixed itself on Joe Sellon’s pencil. ‘I did jest run over ‘ere a few minutes arter the ‘arf-hour to borrer a drop of paraffin from ‘is shed. And if the wireless ‘ad bin on then I couldn’t a-’elped ‘earin’ of it, for them walls at the back ain’t only plaster, and ‘e allus ‘ad it a-roarin’ powerful ‘ard on account of being’ ‘ard of ‘earin’.’

‘I see,’ said Mr Kirk.

‘No ‘arm,’ said Mrs Ruddle, backing away from the table, ‘no ‘arm in borrowin’ a drop o’ paraffin.’

‘Well,’ replied Kirk, cautiously, ‘that’s neither here nor there. Nine-thirty news. That’s on the National.’

‘That’s right. He never troubled with the 5 o’clock.’

Peter consulted Kirk with a glance, stepped over to the radio cabinet and raised the lid.

‘The pointer,’ he observed, ‘is set to Regional.’

‘Well, if you ain’t altered it since-’ Peter shook his head, and Kirk continued. ‘Looks like he didn’t have it on-not for the 9.30. H’m. We’re getting there, aren’t we? Whittling the time down. Line upon line, line upon line, here a little and there a little-’

‘Isaiah,’ said Peter, shutting down the lid. ‘Or is it, more appropriately, Jeremiah?’

‘Isaiah, my lord-and no call for Lamentations that I can see. That’s pretty satisfactory, that is. Dead or unconscious at 9.30-last seen alive about 6.20-ate his supper at-’

‘Six-twenty?’ cried Mrs Ruddle. ‘Go on! He was alive and kicking at 9 o’clock.’

‘What! How do you know? Why didn’t you say so before?’

‘Well, I thought you knowed it. You didn’t ask. And ‘ow I do I know? ‘Cause I seen ‘im, that’s why. ‘Ere! wotter you gettin’ at? Tryin’ to put summat on me? You knows as well as I do ‘e was alive at nine. Joe Sellon ‘ere was a-talkin’ to ‘im.’

Kirk gaped dumbfounded. ‘Eh?’ he said, staring at the constable.

‘Yes,’ muttered Sellon, dully, ‘that’s right.’

‘’Course it is,’ said Mrs Ruddle. Her small eyes gleamed with malicious triumph, behind which lurked an uneasy horror. ‘You don’t catch me that way, Joe Sellon. I come in 9 o’clock from fetchin’ a pail o’ water, and I sees you plain as the nose on my face a-talkin’ to him at this very winder. Ah! and I ‘eard you, too. Usin’ language-you did oughter be ashamed of yourself-not fit for a decent woman to listen to. I come up the yard-which you know where the pump is, and the only water fit to drink, bar you goes down to the village, Mr Kirk, and always free permission to use the pump in the yard, without it’s for washin’, what I always uses rainwater on account of the woollens, and I ‘ears you from the pump-yes, you may look! And I ses to meself, “Lor’,” I ses, “wotever is a-going on?” And I comes round the corner of the ‘ouse and I sees you-and your ‘elmet, so don’t you go a denying of it.’

‘All right, ma,’ said Kirk, shaken, but sticking loyally by his subordinate. ‘Much obliged. That brings us pretty near the time. Nine o’clock, you say it was?’

‘Near as makes no difference. My clock said ten past, but it gains a bit. But you ask Joe Sellon. If yer want to know the time, ask a p’leeceman!’

‘Very good,’ replied the Superintendent. ‘We just wanted a bit of confirmation on that there point. Two witnesses are better than one. That’ll do. Now, just you run along, and-see here-don’t you get shooting your mouth off.’

‘I’m sure,’ said Mrs Ruddle, bridling, ‘I ain’t one to talk.’

‘Certainly not,’ said Peter. ‘That’s the last thing anybody would accuse you of. But, you see, you’re a very important witness-you and Sellon here-and there might be all sorts of people, reporters and so on, trying to wheedle things out of you. So you must be very discreet-just like Sellon and come down sharp on them. Otherwise, you might make things difficult for Mr Kirk.’

‘Joe Sellon, indeed!’ said Mrs Ruddle, contemptuously. ‘I can do as well as ‘im any day. I ‘ope I knows better than to go talking to newspaper fellows. A nasty, vulgar lot.’

‘Most unpleasant people,’ said Peter. He made for the door, driving her gently before him like a straying hen. ‘We know we can rely on you, Mrs Ruddle, thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time. Whatever you do,’ he added earnestly, as he propelled her over the threshold, ‘don’t say anything to Bunter-he’s the world’s worst chatterbox.’

‘Certainly not, my lord,’ said Mrs Ruddle. The door closed. Kirk drew himself up in the big chair; his subordinate sat huddled, waiting for the explosion.;;:;;;:

‘Now, Joe Sellon. What’s the meaning of this?’

‘Well, sir-’

‘I’m disappointed in you, Joe,’ went on Kirk, with more distress than anger in his puzzled voice. ‘I’m astonished. Mean to say you was there at nine o’clock talking to Mr Noakes and you said nothin’ about it? Ain’t you got no sense of duty?’

‘I’m sure I’m very sorry, sir.’

Lord Peter Wimsey strolled over to the window. One does not interfere with another man ticking off his subordinate. All the same-

‘Sorry? That’s a nice word to use. You-a police-officer?

With’oldin’ important evidence? And say you’re sorry?’

(Dereliction of duty. Yes-that was the first way it would strike one.)

‘I didn’t mean-’ began Sellon. Then, furiously: ‘I didn’t know that old cat had seen me.’

‘What the hell does it matter who saw you?’ cried Kirk, with rising exasperation. ‘You ought to have told me first thing… My god, Joe Sellon, I don’t know what to make of you. Upon my word I don’t… You’re for it, my lad.’