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was odd man out and stayed here to mind the lock.”
    â€œGot a witness, Mr. Stranack?”
    Stranack hesitated.
    â€œI had two ‘customers’ during the night—meaning barges for the lock. But I don’t suppose they noticed which of us was working the sluices. We didn’t speak—bargees are very exclusive.”
    â€œIf they didn’t know you were there, they aren’t witnesses. Did anybody come to the house?”
    There was a long pause before Stranack answered:
    â€œA girl spent part of the night here.”
    â€œThat’s the sort of thing I want. Name and address.”
    â€œNothing doing, Inspector. You can check that she left here a bit after two in a car from The Hollow Tree Garage.”
    â€œSo I’d know that a girl used this telephone for a car. It wouldn’t tell me you were here with her.” As Stranack made no answer. “We shall have to ask you to come to headquarters while we clear this up.”
    â€œOf my own free will, Inspector?”
    â€œThat’s right,” commended Curwen. “Saves unpleasantness on both sides.”
    Curwen’s complacency was returning. Two men, each claiming to be the one who had stayed behind at the lockhouse. They hadn’t even cooked up a tale. See what the third had to say.
    He found Lyle Canvey in the cowshed-garage, cobbling up the exhaust manifold of the Ford with asbestos. He decided to try a different approach.
    He introduced himself and added: “I am on a routine investigation. There was a murder in Renchester last night.”
    â€œThen I’m afraid I’m no use,” smiled Canvey. “The only man I ever wanted to murder is my own boss and he happens to be in Madrid.”
    Curwen didn’t want to be offered the cutting from The Times all over again. He chose a flanking movement.
    â€œThat Ford was in Renchester last night. Were you in it?”
    â€œThat’s easy. We were moving some papers and oddments of our work from the new depot of WillyBee Products. We’re all three in the research department. Those boxes and parcels inside the car!”
    â€œAnd were you and the other two in Renchester last night getting all that stuff together?”
    â€œNo. One of us had to stay at home and keep the lock. We tossed odd man out—and I was odd man.”
    Curwen had expected that answer but was nevertheless surprised when it came. These men were not village idiots. Mentally they belonged to the highest class of professional men engaged in industry. Two of the three were putting up an alibi which would have been an insult to a young schoolboy’s intelligence.
    â€œCan you produce a witness that it was you who stayed in the lockhouse and not one of the others?”
    â€œSurely there’s no need! If you ask the other two they’ll tell you.”
    That, thought Curwen, was a tall one.
    He revealed the identity of the corpse and was himself put through the routine of Madrid, the minister, lunch with the Caudillo and the cutting from The Times. In a few minutes he had worked back to the main line.
    â€œDid anyone come to the lockhouse while the other two were away?”
    â€œYes. A woman. She turned up a little while after the others had driven off. She was stranded—I don’t know how or why and she told me nothing at all about herself. She wanted to telephone for a car. I persuaded her to take it easy. She finally did ring for a car, a bit after two in the morning.”
    Perhaps this really was the one who had stayed behind, thought Curwen.
    But Stranack had known about the woman telephoning.
    â€œName and address of the lady, Mr. Canvey?”
    â€œI don’t know her real name.”
    â€œThen let’s have a full description.”
    â€œI don’t see any need to drag her into it.”
    â€œThis is a murder case, Mr. Canvey.”
    Canvey scowled. The police, he supposed, could not help talking like