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you.”
    Curwen was pleased. He knew now, he thought, where he stood. One of these men, if not both, had been involved in the murder. One, if not both, must be putting on an act. Give them all the rope they asked.
    â€œAn unfortunate interruption!” Eddis was apologetic. “I had just assured you that I was not one of the two persons who went in the car to Renchester last night.”
    â€œDo you know why they—the other two—went into Renchester at that time?”
    â€œOh yes! To fulfil a common purpose. It was chance alone that kept me here. We tossed odd man out for which of us should stay here and keep the lock. I was odd man.”
    â€œWhat was the common purpose?”
    Eddis looked alarmed.
    â€œYou’re letting yourself in for something, Inspector! A professional matter which could not possibly concern you as a detective in search of a murderer.”
    When Curwen pressed for an answer Eddis gave a clear summary of the air conditioner, the pressure cooker and the case for payment of royalties. “So we decided to remove our work, consisting of a considerable bulk of notes and records. That, you will admit, does not concern you.”
    Curwen admitted it and asked:
    â€œSo you stayed here! Give me a couple of witnesses, and that lets you out.”
    â€œI have no witnesses.”
    â€œSurely someone must have seen or spoken to you between, say, eight-thirty and when the others came home?”
    â€œYou don’t know Peasebarrow! The gentry and nobility do not visit at a lockhouse, and local beauty regards us with nun-like detachment.”
    The wrong answer! This man did not know that a girl had called a car from the lockhouse around two in the morning. Good!
    â€œWhat time did—the other two—get home?”
    â€œI was asleep. If you like, I’ll ask Stranack.”
    â€œI’m asking you. Asleep or not, you must have heard the Ford backing into that cowshed.”
    â€œAh! You’ve been reading Waenhart. When we’re asleep, we hear every sound that impacts with a minimum potency of—”
    â€œThank you, Mr. Eddis!” Curwen got up and examined the book that looked like a ledger.
    â€œHere’s your signature for barges passing through—”
    â€œYes, and I did operate the lock at those times, but my signature doesn’t prove it. That log is a farce. We sometimes fill in two or three days in a block.”
    â€œThink again,” invited Curwen. “If you can’t produce any supporting evidence I shall have to ask you to come to headquarters for further questioning.”
    â€œCertainly!” Eddis was gravely courteous. “If you feel I can help you, give me a ring at any time.”
    â€œI mean now !”
    â€œA euphemism for arrest!” exclaimed Eddis. “How very delicate of you, Inspector! What do I do?”
    Curwen walked with him to the bridge and signed to Benjoy, who was waiting at the top of the ramp.
    â€œI want you to meet my assistant, Detective-Constable Benjoy—Mr. Eddis. Benjoy will show you the ropes,” said Curwen and turned back muttering: “That’ll teach him to tell me what I’ve been reading!”
    Stranack was waiting for him in the doorway.
    â€œI’ve been trying to guess how Scotland Yard comes into this, Inspector. I suppose some Spaniard knifed or bombed him—”
    â€œHe was killed by two Englishmen in Renchester last night.”
    â€œMeaning Eddis and Canvey? The local police have sold you a pup! Brengast is in Madrid and today he is having a new factory opened by a minister, and lunching with the Caudillo. There’s a cutting from The Times lying about somewhere—”
    Curwen repeated his explanation.
    â€œDid you drive in the Ford to Renchester last night, Mr. Stranack?”
    â€œNo. We had to fetch some things from the factory. It was a two-man job. We tossed odd man out and I lost—or won, if you like. I