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phrased it in a different way. ‘When you’re out of the barrack rooms, are they locked?’
    â€˜No, Sergeant. They ain’t got no locks, and in any case the officers and NCOs go round doing snap inspections when we ain’t there.’
    Marriott glanced at Hardcastle. ‘It doesn’t look as though we’re going to get any further with this, sir.’
    â€˜No, Marriott. It looks as though someone went into the barrack room while these lads were on parade, and took the tunic and the trousers.’ Hardcastle stood up and walked to the door. ‘I think we’re done here, Captain McIntyre,’ he said.
    â€˜Was it any help?’ asked McIntyre.
    â€˜Not much. It looks as though someone stole the clothing while those lads were on parade or about the barracks somewhere.’
    â€˜They’ll still be charged for the loss.’ RSM Punchard sniffed. ‘Someone’s been smoking in there,’ he said.
    â€˜Me, Mr Punchard,’ said Hardcastle mildly.
    â€˜Mr Punchard,’ said Marriott, ‘these men said they were issued with two sets of uniform.’
    â€˜That’s correct, Mr Marriott.’
    â€˜Does that include two caps?’
    â€˜No, they only gets the one cap.’
    Hardcastle was in a foul mood for the whole journey back to London. ‘Well, that was a waste of bloody time, Marriott,’ he said.
    â€˜I agree, sir. Just about anyone in the barracks could have swiped those bits of uniform, and according to the RSM there’s about a thousand men under training, plus the permanent staff and the officers.’
    When Hardcastle and Marriott returned to Cannon Row, there was a message awaiting the DDI.
    â€˜Excuse me, sir.’ DC Henry Catto hovered in the doorway of Hardcastle’s office.
    â€˜Yes, what is it, lad?’
    â€˜Mr Fitnam from V Division telephoned with a request for you to speak to him.’
    â€˜What does he want?’ Hardcastle settled behind his desk and filled his pipe.
    â€˜He didn’t say, sir, but he did say it was important.’
    â€˜Yes, all right, Catto.’ Hardcastle knew that when Arthur Fitnam, the DDI of V Division said it was important, then it was. ‘Looks like we’re off again, Marriott.’ The DDI sighed, stood up and walked down to the front office of the police station.
    â€˜All correct, sir,’ said the station officer, an elderly station-sergeant.
    â€˜Can you get me Mr Fitnam at V Division on that thing?’ asked Hardcastle, gesturing at the telephone.
    â€˜Certainly, sir.’ The station officer, clearly more adept at using the telephone than was Hardcastle, quickly made the connection. After a short delay, DDI Fitnam came on the line.
    â€˜Arthur, it’s Ernest Hardcastle on A. I’m told you’ve got something important to tell me.’ For a few minutes, Hardcastle listened intently to what his V Division opposite number had to say. When their conversation had finished, the DDI replaced the receiver on its little hook and turned to the constable on station duty. ‘Run up to my office, lad, and tell Sergeant Marriott we’re going to Wandsworth.’
    â€˜Very good, sir,’ said the PC.
    â€˜And while you’re about it,’ added Hardcastle, ‘ask him to bring down my titfer and gamp.’
    A few moments later, Marriott appeared with the DDI’s hat and umbrella. ‘Something on, sir?’ he asked.
    â€˜Mr Fitnam’s got a murder on his hands that he thinks might be of interest to us, Marriott.’
    â€˜I’m sorry to drag you all the way down here, Ernie, but I think there’s a tie-up between your murder and the one I’ve got going here. I saw the brief details of your topping in this morning’s
Police Gazette
.’
    Hardcastle laughed. ‘I always enjoy a trip to the country, Arthur, you should know that. But what about this murder of yours?’ It was one of the DDI’s