'Would that require much strength?'

'I think not. There would be no struggle - the girl would be taken unawares. It's a footbridge of slippery wood. Easiest thing in the world to pitch her over - there's no handrail that side.'

'You know for a fact that the tragedy occurred there?'

'Yes. We've got a boy - Jimmy Brown - aged twelve. He was in the woods on the other side. He heard a kind of scream from the bridge and a splash. It was dusk you know - difficult to see anything. Presently he saw something white floating down in the water and he ran and got help. They got her out but it was too late to revive her.'

Sir Henry nodded.

'The boy saw no one on the bridge?'

'No. But as I tell you, it was dusk, and there's mist always hanging about there. I'm going to question him as to whether he saw anyone about just afterwards or just before. You see he naturally assumed that the girl had thrown herself over. Everybody did to start with.'

'Still, we've got the note,' said Inspector Drewitt. He turned to Sir Henry.

'Note in the dead girl's pocket, sir. Written with a kind of artist's pencil it was, and all of a sop though the paper was we managed to read it.'

'And what did it say?'

'It was from young Sandford. "All right," that's how it ran. "I'll meet you at the bridge at eight-thirty. - R.S." Well, it was near as might be to eight-thirty - a few minutes after - when Jimmy Brown heard the cry and the splash.'

'I don't know whether you've met Sandford at all?' went on Colonel Melchett. 'He's been down here about a month. One of these modern day young architects who build peculiar houses. He's doing a house for Allington. God knows what it's going to be like - full of new-fangled stuff, I suppose. Glass dinner table and surgical chairs made of steel and webbing. Well, that's neither here nor there, but it shows the kind of chap Sandford is. Bolshie, you know - no morals.'

'Seduction,' said Sir Henry mildly, 'is quite an old-established crime though it does not, of course, date back so far as murder.'

Colonel Melchett stared.

'Oh! yes,' he said. 'Quite. Quite.'

'Well, Sir Henry,' said Drewitt, 'there it is - an ugly business, but plain. This young Sandford gets the girl into trouble. Then he's all for clearing off back to London. He's got a girl there - nice young lady - he's engaged to be married to her. Well, naturally this business, if she gets to hear of it, may cook his goose good and proper. He meets Rose at the bridge - it's a misty evening, no one about - he catches her by the shoulders and pitches her in. A proper young swine - and deserves what's coming to him. That's my opinion.'

Sir Henry was silent for a minute or two. He perceived a strong undercurrent of local prejudice. A new fangled architect was not likely to be popular in the conservative village of St Mary Mead.

'There is no doubt, I suppose, that this man, Sandford, was actually the father of the coming child?' he

asked.

'He's the father all right,' said Drewitt. 'Rose Emmott let out as much to her father. She thought he'd marry her. Marry her! Not he!'

'Dear me," thought Sir Henry. 'I seem to be back in mid-Victorian melodrama. Unsuspecting girl, the villain from London, the stern father, the betrayal - we only need the faithful village lover. Yes, I think it's time I asked about him.'

And aloud he said:

'Hadn't the girl a young man other own down here?'

'You mean Joe Ellis?' said the inspector. 'Good fellow Joe. Carpentering's his trade. Ah! If she'd stuck to Joe -'

Colonel Melchett nodded approval.

'Stick to your own class,' he snapped.

'How did Joe Ellis take this affair?' asked Sir Henry.

'Nobody knew how he was taking it,' said the inspector. 'He's a quiet fellow, is Joe. Close. Anything Rose did was right in his eyes. She had him on a string all right Just hoped she'd come back to him some day - that was his attitude, I reckon.'

'I'd like to see him,' said Sir Henry.

'Oh! We're going to look him up,' said Colonel Melchett 'We're not neglecting any line. I thought myself we'd see Emmott first, then Sandford, and then we can go on and see Ellis. That suits you, Clithering?'

Sir Henry said it would suit him admirably.

They found Tom Emmott at the Blue Boar. He was a big burly man of middle age with a shifty eye and a truculent jaw.

'Glad to see you, gentlemen - good morning, Colonel. Come in here and we can be private. Can I offer you anything, gentlemen? No? It's as you please. You've come about this business of my poor girl. Ah! She was a good girl, Rose was. Always was a good girl - till this bloody swine - beg pardon, but that's what he is - till he came along. Promised her marriage, he did. But I'll have the law on him. Drove her to it, he did. Murdering swine. Bringing disgrace on all of us. My poor girl.'

'Your daughter distinctly told you that Mr Sandford was responsible for her condition?' asked Melchett crisply.

'She did. In this very room she did.'

'And what did you say to her?' asked Sir Henry.

'Say to her?' The man seemed momentarily taken aback.

'Yes. You didn't, for example, threaten to turn her out of the house.'

'I was a bit upset - that's only natural. I'm sure you'll agree that's only natural. But, of course, I didn't turn her out of the house. I wouldn't do such a thing.' He assumed virtuous indignation. 'No. What's the law for - that's what I say. What's the law for? He'd got to do the right by her. And if he didn't, by God, he'd got to pay.'

He brought, down his fist on the table.

'What time did you last see your daughter?' asked Melchett.

'Yesterday - tea time.'

'What was her manner then?'

'Well, much as usual. I didn't notice anything. If I'd known -'

'But you didn't know,' said the inspector dryly.

They took their leave.

'Emmott hardly creates a favourable impression,' said Sir Henry thoughtfully.

'Bit of a blackguard,' said Melchett. 'He'd have bled Sandford all right if he'd had the chance.'

Their next call was on the architect. Rex Sandford was very unlike the picture Sir Henry had unconsciously formed of him. He was a tall young man, very fair and very thin. His eyes were blue and dreamy, his hair was untidy and rather too long. His speech was a little too ladylike.

Colonel Melchett introduced himself and his companions. Then passing straight to the object of his visit, he invited the architect to make a statement as to his movements on the previous evening.

'You understand,' he said warningly. 'I have no power to compel a statement from you and any statement you make may be used in evidence against you. I want the position to be quite clear to you.'

'I - I don't understand,' said Sandford.

'You understand that the girl Rose Emmott was drowned last night?'

'I know. Oh! it's too, too distressing. Really, I haven't slept a wink. I've been incapable of any work today. I feel responsible - terribly responsible.'

He ran his hands through his hair, making it untidier still.

'I never meant any harm,' he said piteously. 'I never thought. I never dreamt she'd take it that way.'

He sat down at a table and buried his face in his hands.

'Do I understand you to say, Mr Sandford, that you refuse to make a statement as to where you were last night at eight-thirty?'

'No, no - certainly not I was out. I went for a walk.'

'You went to meet Miss Emmott?'

'No. I went by myself. Through the woods. A long way.'

'Then how do you account for this note, sir, which was found in the dead girl's pocket?'

And Inspector Drewitt read it unemotionally aloud.

'Now, sir,' he finished. 'Do you deny that you wrote that?'

'No - no. You're right. I did write it Rose asked me to meet her. She insisted. I didn't know what to do. So I wrote that note.'