Harry Charlesworth met Sir Arthur and Mr Wood at Hednesford station and walked them to the Rising Sun public house. In the saloon bar they were introduced to a lanky young man with a celluloid collar and frayed cuffs. There were some whitish stains on one sleeve of his jacket, which Arthur thought unlikely to be either horse's saliva or even bread and milk.

'Tell them what you told me,' said Harry.

Wynn looked at the strangers slowly and tapped his glass. Arthur sent Wood off for the necessary encouragement to their informant's voice box.

'I was at school with Speck,' he began. 'He was always at the bottom of the class. Always in trouble. Set a rick on fire one summer. Liked to chew tobacco. One evening I was on the train with Brookes when Speck came running into the same compartment, straight to the end of the carriage and stuck his head through the window smashing it to bits. Just started laughing at what he'd done. Then we all moved to another carriage.

'A couple of days later some railway police arrived and said we are to be charged with breaking the window. We both said Speck did it, so he had to pay for it, and they caught him cutting the straps of the window as well, and he had to pay for that too. Then Brookes's Pa started getting letters saying Brookes and me had been spitting on an old lady at Walsall Station. He was always in mischief, Speck. Then the school had him taken away. I don't recall he was exactly expelled, but as good as.'

'And what became of him?' asked Arthur.

'A year or two later I heard he'd been sent to sea.'

'To sea? You're sure? Absolutely sure?'

'Well, that's what they said. Anyway, he disappeared.'

'When would this have been?'

'As I say, a year or two later. He probably fired the rick in about '92, I'd say.

'So he would have gone to sea at the end of '95, beginning of '96?'

'That I couldn't say.'

'Roughly?'

'I couldn't say nearer than I've said already.'

'Do you remember which port he departed from?'

Wynn shook his head.

'Or when he returned? If he did return?'

Wynn shook his head again. 'Charlesworth said you'd be interested.' He tapped his glass once more. This time Arthur ignored the gesture.

'I am interested, Mr Wynn, but you'll forgive me if I say there's a problem with your story.'

'Is there just?'

'You went to Walsall School?'

'Yes.'

'And so did Brookes?'

'Yes.'

'And so did Speck?'

'Yes.'

'Then how do you account for the fact that Mr Mitchell, the current Headmaster, assures me that there has been no boy of that name at the school in the past twenty years?'

'Oh, I see,' said Wynn. 'Speck was just what we called him. He was a little fellow, like a speck. That's probably why. No, his real name was Sharp.'

'Sharp?'

'Royden Sharp.'

Arthur picked up Mr Wynn's glass and handed it to his secretary. 'Anything with that, Mr Wynn? A chaser of whisky, perhaps?'

'Now that would be very noble of you, Sir Arthur. Very noble. And I was wondering if in return I might request a favour of you.' He reached down to a small haversack, and Arthur left the Rising Sun with half a dozen narrative sketches of local life – 'I thought of calling them "Vignettes'" – on whose literary merit he had promised to adjudicate.

'Royden Sharp. Now that's a new name in the case. How would we set about tracing him? Any ideas, Harry?'

'Oh yes,' said Harry. 'I didn't want to mention it in front of Wynn in case he drank the house dry. I can give you a lead on him. He used to be the ward of Mr Greatorex.'

'Greatorex!'

'There were two Sharp brothers, Wallie and Royden. One of them was at school with George and me, though I can't remember which at this distance. But Mr Greatorex can tell you about them.'

They took the train two stops back up the line to Wyrley amp; Churchbridge, then walked to Littleworth Farm. Mr and Mrs Greatorex were a comfortable, easy couple in late middle age, hospitable and direct. For once, Arthur felt, it would not be a matter of beer and bootscrapers, of calculating whether the correct price of information was two shillings and threepence or two shillings and fourpence.

'Wallie and Royden Sharp were the sons of my tenant farmer Peter Sharp,' Mr Greatorex began. 'They were rather wild boys. No, that's perhaps unfair. Royden was a wild boy. I remember his father once had to pay for a rick he set on fire. Wallie was more strange than wild.

'Royden was expelled from school – from Walsall. Both boys went there. Royden was idle and destructive, I gathered, though I never had the full story. Peter sent him next to Wisbech School, but that didn't take any better. So he had him apprenticed to a butcher, by the name of Meldon I think, in Cannock. Then, towards the end of '93, I became involved. The boys' father was dying, and he asked me if I would become Royden's trustee. It was the least I could do, and naturally I made what promises I could to Peter. I did my best, but Royden was simply uncontrollable. Nothing but trouble. Thieving, smashing things, lying constantly…

wouldn't stick at any job. In the end I said he had two choices. Either I would stop his allowance and report him to the police, or he could go to sea.'

'We are aware of which alternative he chose.'

'So I got him a passage as an apprentice on the General Roberts, belonging to Lewis Davies amp; Co.'

'This would be when?'

'At the end of 1895. The very end. I think she sailed on the 30th of December.'

'And from which port, Mr Greatorex?' Arthur knew the answer already, but still leaned forward in anticipation.

'Liverpool.'

'And how long did he stay with the General Roberts?'

'Well, for once he stuck at something. He finished his apprenticeship about four years later, and got a third mate's certificate. Then he came home.'

'Does that take us to 1903?'

'No, no. Earlier. '01, I'm sure. But he was only home briefly, Then he got a billet on a cattle boat between Liverpool and America. He served ten months on it. And after that he came home permanently. That would have been in '03.'

'A cattle ship, indeed. And where is he now?'

'In the same house his father had. But he's much changed. He's married, for a start.'

'Did you ever suspect him or his brother of writing the letters in your son's name?'

'No.'

'Why not?'

'There were no grounds. And I would have judged him too idle, and perhaps not imaginative enough.'

'And – let me guess – did they have a younger brother – perhaps a rather foul-mouthed boy, I would guess?'

'No, no. There were just the two of them.'

'Or a young companion of that kind, who was often with them?'

'No. Not at all.'

'I see. And did Royden Sharp resent your trusteeship?'

'Frequently, yes. He didn't understand why I refused to hand over all the money his father had left him. Not that there was much. A fact which made me all the more determined not to let him squander it.'

'The other boy – Wallie – he was the elder?'

'Yes, he'd be about thirty now.'

'So that's the one you were at school with, Harry?' Charlesworth nodded. 'You said he was strange. In what way?'

'Strange. Not quite of this world. I can't be more precise.'

'Any signs of religious mania?'

'Not that I was aware of. He was clever, Wallie. Brainy.'

'Did he study Milton at Walsall School?'

'Not that I was aware of.'

'And after school?'

'He was apprenticed to an electrical engineer for a while.'

'Which would permit him to travel to the neighbouring towns?'

Mr Greatorex looked puzzled by the question. 'Certainly. Like many another man.'

'And… do the brothers still live together?'

'No, Wallie left the country a year or two back.'

'Where did he go?'