'Are you Chapel?'

'No.'

He was silent for a while, his hands folded on his lap, the letters before him on the table.

'Stanley was Chapel when they married. Then he went over. Did you know that?'

'Yes.'

'Where I come from in the North, we don't do that. Chapel was something we'd stood up for and won. Almost like the vote.'

'I know.'

His back was as straight as a soldier's. He looked stern rather than sad. Quite suddenly, his eyes turned towards Smiley, and he looked at him long and carefully.

'Are you a schoolmaster?' he asked, and it occurred to Smiley that in his day Samuel Glaston had been a very shrewd man of business.

'No… I'm more or less retired.'

'Married?'

'I was.'

Again the old man fell silent, and Smiley wished he had left him alone.

'She was a great one for chatter,' he said at last.

Smiley said nothing.

'Have you told the police?'

'Yes, but they knew already. That is, they knew that Stella thought her husband was going to murder her. She'd tried to tell Mr Cardew…'

'The Minister?'

'Yes. He thought she was overwrought and… deluded.'

'Do you think she wasn't?'

'I don't know. I just don't know. But from what I have heard of your daughter I don't believe she was unbalanced. Something roused her suspicions, something frightened her very much. I don't believe we can just disregard that. I don't believe it was a coincidence that she was frightened before she died. And therefore I don't believe that the beggar-woman murdered her.'

Samuel Glaston nodded slowly. It seemed to Smiley that the old man was trying to show interest, partly to be polite, and partly because if he did not it would be a confession that he had lost interest in life itself.

Then, after a long silence, he carefully folded up the letters and gave them back. Smiley waited for him to speak, but he said nothing.

After a few moments Smiley got up and walked quietly from the room.