“Of course,” said Jack, “everyone knows. Thank you for your time, Mr. Pewter. You’ve been most helpful.”

“Delighted to be of service, Inspector. I am always here if you need to talk again.”

Mr. Pewter saw them to the door, and they walked back to the Allegro.

“You can drive,” said Jack, tossing the car keys to Mary.

She got in and looked around the spartan controls dubiously.

“Seventies design classic,” said Jack. “The Allegro was a lot better than people give it credit for. The clutch is on the way out, so it bites high, and don’t be too aggressive with the turn signal—I broke it the other day, and I’m still awaiting a replacement.”

She turned the key, and the little engine burst into life. Jack was right, the clutch did bite high, but aside from that it drove very well—and with a surprisingly comfortable ride, too.

“Hydrogas suspension,” commented Jack when Mary asked. “Best thing about it.”

“So,” said Mary as they made their way back towards the city center, “Humpty was buying shares in a company that is heading rapidly downhill—why do you suppose that is?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps he wanted a staff discount on corn plasters. Perhaps he liked Randolph. Perhaps he’d gone mad. Speaking of which, let’s see if we can get any sense out of Dr. Quatt. But not quite yet. Take a right here and pull up outside Argos. I said I’d drop in and check out the Sacred Gonga Visitors’ Center—we’re on duty there Saturday.”