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recently been joined by a new young person by the name of John. He has rather a loud voice and vehement manner, but we would be quite pleased to introduce him to you, if you have no objection to infants. In any event, there is nothing else to do in Rottingdean but count your blessings and admire the children. Dessert at The Elms offers about as much temptation as you will find anywhere in the village.” He paused, looking reflective. “Although there is this body on the beach. And speaking of mysteries, I have just been told something in which you might have a professional—”
    There was a clamor from below, and Kate turned to see that the trio on the beach was on the point of being joined by a fourth, a stout, red-faced constable dressed in a blue serge uniform and a tall helmet. He was hurrying down the beach, waving his arms and hailing them angrily.
    â€œWhat is he saying?” Kate asked.
    â€œI imagine,” Charles replied, “that he is telling them to leave the body alone until he is there to see to the matter. There might be clues.”
    Kipling gave Charles a swift glance. “Clues? What are you thinking?”
    â€œI understood the fisherman to say that the body is that of the coast guard from Black Rock,” Charles said. “Since he was an official of the Crown, the constable will want to make sure that he died by drowning, and not from some other cause.”
    Kate frowned, wondering what Charles had in mind. “What do coast guards do?” she asked, curious.
    â€œThey are supposed to guard against smuggling,” Charles said, “although I doubt that there are many smugglers hereabouts. It has been a long time since the repeal of the excise.”
    â€œPerhaps,” Kipling said, looking thoughtful. “But the traditions of smuggling die hard. There are tunnels, you see, and ghosts. At least, there is one ghost. He lives in our cellar.”
    â€œA ghost ! ” Kate exclaimed.
    Kipling smiled. “Of course. Smugglers are not the sort to lie quietly in the grave. Do come this evening and I shall see if we can entice our ghost to manifest himself. And the boy has told me a story about—”
    Kate had been watching the scene on the beach, and now she turned to Charles, plucking at his sleeve. “Charles,” she said, “I think you should offer your services to the constable.” She glanced at Kipling with mischievous intent. “Charles is a photographer, you see, Rud—a very skilled photographer. His camera has helped to solve several important crimes.”
    â€œIs that a fact?” Kipling inquired, looking interested.
    â€œYes,” Kate said with exaggerated emphasis. “And it is a quite well-known fact that he is remarkably skilled at unraveling mysteries, and has been the means of bringing several killers to justice.” She lifted her chin, glad to be even with her husband for revealing her secret identity. “In this case, Charles, it might be useful to photograph the dead man. There might be clues to his demise. But you’d best hurry, because it appears that the constable is about to—”
    â€œKate,” Charles said gently, “don’t you think you’re overdoing it, my dear? The constable has his own methods of criminal inquiry. He would surely resent the intrusion of someone else, especially someone in an unofficial capacity.”
    â€œNo, no, I quite agree with your wife, Sheridan,” Kipling said briskly. “It would be a pity to waste your investigative skills.” He turned toward the stairs. “Constable Woodhouse may be a trifle hardheaded, but I’m sure he’ll be glad of your services. Come, I’ll introduce you and suggest that proceedings be delayed while you send for your camera. And while we’re at it, perhaps you should like to hear something else of interest concerning this body.”
    â€œSomething else?” Charles inquired, as he