III

“Hallo, ’allo, ’allo. Police station here. Yes, who’s speaking?”

Police-Constable Palk was buttoning up his tunic with one hand whilethe other held the receiver.

“Yes, yes, Gossington Hall. Yes? Oh, good morning, sir.” Police-ConstablePalk’s tone underwent a slight modification. It became less impatiently of-ficial, recognizing the generous patron of the police sports and the prin-cipal magistrate of the district.

“Yes, sir? What can I do for you?—I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t quite catch—abody, did you say?—yes?—yes, if you please, sir—that’s right, sir—youngwoman not known to you, you say?—quite, sir. Yes, you can leave it all tome.”

Police-Constable Palk replaced the receiver, uttered a longdrawn whistleand proceeded to dial his superior officer’s number.

Mrs. Palk looked in from the kitchen whence proceeded an appetizingsmell of frying bacon.

“What is it?”

“Rummest thing you ever heard of,” replied her husband. “Body of ayoung woman found up at the Hall. In the Colonel’s library.”

“Murdered?”

“Strangled, so he says.”

“Who was she?”

“The Colonel says he doesn’t know her from Adam.”

“Then what was she doing in ’is library?”

Police-Constable Palk silenced her with a reproachful glance and spokeofficially into the telephone.

“Inspector Slack? Police-Constable Palk here. A report has just come inthat the body of a young woman was discovered this morning at seven-fif-teen—”