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little jokes that A Division was at the centre of things, whereas V Division, in his jocular view, was almost bucolic. It was not the case, of course, as Hardcastle would be the first to acknowledge. The Wandsworth Division had more than its fair share of villainy.
    â€˜It took place in Kingston upon Thames during the night of Wednesday the eleventh. That’s the same day as your murder at Victoria. A patrolling PC found the dead body of a young woman lying in the centre of Cambridge Road. At first it looked as though she had been run over, which turned out to be true, but on closer examination it was obvious that she’d been stabbed as well.’
    â€˜How does that have anything to do with my killing, Arthur?’ asked Hardcastle.
    â€˜A baker’s van was found abandoned in Kingston Road, which is what Cambridge Road becomes when you get nearer Malden,’ continued Fitnam, ignoring Hardcastle’s question. ‘It took a few days, and we only got the results this morning, but it was apparent from the damage that it was the van that had hit the young woman, and there was blood on the front bumper. More to the point, though, a bloodstained knife was found in the van that almost certainly was the murder weapon. As far as we can work out, the van driver must’ve picked up this woman at some stage, and, for some reason, stabbed her. Despite that, it looks as though she made her escape from the vehicle, but was then deliberately run down by the driver. After he’d knocked her over in Cambridge Road, he must’ve driven on for about half a mile, and then abandoned the vehicle.’
    â€˜I still don’t see what this has to do with my enquiry,’ said Hardcastle.
    â€˜Ah, but just wait, Ernie. We later discovered that the van was stolen from a bakery in Cowleaze Road, Kingston. And that is what made me think of you.’
    â€˜I wasn’t a baker, but I do like a decent slice of farmhouse,’ said Hardcastle, tiring of the way in which Fitnam was spinning out his yarn. He made a point of taking out his watch and glancing at it.
    â€˜The lock-up where the van was kept wasn’t broken into, Ernie. The padlock was undone with a key, and the doors locked again after the van was taken. And guess who used to work there as a baker’s roundsman before he was conscripted for the army.’
    â€˜Indulge me,’ said Hardcastle, taking out his pipe and filling it. He was growing weary of Fitnam’s lengthy dissertation.
    â€˜A lad called Edward Stacey who, the baker told me, is now in the Army Service Corps at Aldershot. And the same Edward Stacey was mentioned in your entry in the
Police Gazette
in connection with your Victoria Station topping. So it’s just a case of going down to Aldershot and nicking him.’ Fitnam leaned back with a look of triumph on his face. ‘There, what d’you think of that, eh?’
    A smile spread slowly across Hardcastle’s face, and he shot a sideways glance at Marriott, who was also smiling. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, Arthur, but Stacey was in the custody of the military police all that night from six o’clock in the evening. At my request.’ It had, of course, been Colonel Frobisher who had ordered Stacey’s arrest, but Hardcastle saw no point in complicating the story. ‘So the entry in
Police
Gazette
was out of date by the time you read it. The lad Stacey has been rowed out of my enquiry.’
    â€˜Well, I’ll be damned!’ exclaimed Fitnam, and leaned back in his chair. ‘Trust you to bugger up my investigation, Ernie.’
    â€˜Nevertheless, it interests me, Arthur,’ said Hardcastle, and went on to explain about the missing cap, tunic and trousers.
    â€˜It looks as though someone’s got it in for young Stacey, then,’ said Fitnam thoughtfully. ‘I wonder who he’s upset.’
    â€˜Who was the woman, sir?’ asked Marriott. ‘Has she been