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that camp site I told you about. Most of these old tramps have hidden spots tucked away, places where they can lie up for a while. They like to keep them secret, especially if they’re on private land. Capel Wood belongs to the farmer Bridger works for. Topper told the police he’d been using the site for years. When he got there yesterday he spotted the shoe lying on the bank across the stream. Then he saw the girl’s foot.’
    ‘It’s a wonder he didn’t run off at once.’
    ‘He easily might have,’ Madden agreed. ‘He must have felt terrified. But instead he collected it and brought it to Brookham. It was a brave thing to do.’ He smiled at his wife again.
    ‘How have the police reacted? Do they believe him?’
    ‘Oh, I think so. But they wanted to know more about this man Beezy. According to Topper they met at a dosshouse in London last winter. Beezy’s usual summer base is Kent – he finds hop-picking work there. But this year for some reason he decided to join up with Topper and come down to Surrey instead. They were moving in our direction: Topper told the police you were expecting him. “Mustn’t let Dr Madden down,” he said.’
    ‘Quite right, too.’ Helen nodded approvingly.
    ‘However, Beezy fell ill while they were doing some odd jobs on a farm near Dorking. He caught bronchitis and was laid up for a week in the barn there. The farmer’s wife took care of him. Topper moved on – he’d heard of some work going in Coldharbour – but they agreed to meet up again this weekend. Topper gave him directions to Capel Wood and told him how to find the camp site.’
    ‘But he never got there, did he? Beezy, I mean?’
    ‘Ah, but he did.’ Frowning, Madden put down his coffee cup. ‘I saw his sign at the camp site.’
    ‘His sign?’
    ‘A lot of these tramps have their individual marks. They carve them on trees at meeting spots.’
    ‘Oh, I know about those.’ She nodded. ‘Topper’s is a circled cross. Go on.’
    ‘I noticed several cut into the trunk of a birch tree by the camp site, but only one of them was fresh: a triangle with a line drawn through it. According to Topper, that’s Beezy’s mark.’
    Helen absorbed this information in silence while she refilled their cups. ‘So if Beezy was there before Topper found the girl’s shoe, that must mean he’s a suspect,’ she said.
    ‘He’s bound to be, I’m afraid.’ Madden scowled at the tablecloth in front of him. He lifted a hand to his forehead where a faint, jagged scar, the souvenir of a shell blast from the war, showed white against his sunburned skin. Unaware that he was signalling his concern to his wife, he touched it with his fingertips. ‘Topper’s in the clear himself, you’ll be glad to hear,’ he went on. ‘He got a lift in a lorry from Coldharbour to Shamley Green yesterday afternoon – the police have already spoken to the driver – and couldn’t have reached Capel Wood before three o’clock at the earliest, which was hours after Alice Bridger disappeared.’
    ‘The very idea!’ Her tone of scornful dismissal brought the smile back to Madden’s lips. Nevertheless she saw there was still some unspoken worry on his mind and would have questioned him further if his glance hadn’t shifted just then to the open window behind her.
    ‘Look – there’s Rob.’ Madden gestured with his coffee cup. ‘Has he been up in the woods?’
    ‘He left the house when I did.’ Turning in her chair, Helen followed the direction of her husband’s gaze across the sunlit terrace, down the long lawn to the orchard at the foot of the garden, where their ten-year-old son, clad in shorts, was just then emerging from the trees, swinging a policeman’s lamp in his hand. ‘He told me Ted Stackpole was going to show him a badger’s sett he’d discovered. The boys thought if they got there before dawn they might see the cubs.’
    Madden grunted. He watched as the small figure made its plodding way up the lawn. ‘They’ll