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came to, ourselves. And no-one could tell us where it was he’d gone. So . . .’
    ‘You gave it up and the body’s been buried on the rates?’ She must have realized that he was surprised, because she added, ‘I read it in the paper, only just today. In fact, it’s on this very parcel I’ve got here. I’ll show you if you like, though it will be all damp by now . . .’ She made as if to unwrap the paper all the same, and he was edging closer on the pretence of looking at the paragraph, when the basement window was flung open and a loud voice called, ‘Effie! What in heaven are you up to now? Put that parcel where I told you and get back in here at once – I’ve got this galantine to make and God only blessed me with a single pair of hands.’
    Effie wrapped the parcel up again and threw a glance at him. ‘I’m some sorry, Alex – Constable Dawes, that is – you can see I’m wanted. I can’t stop here, chatting, any more than you.’ She paused a moment, and then blurted out, ‘Though it’s been some nice to see you.’
    That gave him courage and he caught her arm. ‘Nice enough to want to do it on some other day? I know you go to see your family on your half-day off – Thursdays, isn’t it? But maybe, if I could arrange my shifts . . . Could I meet you for a little, first?’
    She had turned redder than a beetroot now and she pulled away from him. ‘Don’t be so daft. We’d never have the time. Besides, I got to go. Though . . .’
    He caught his breath. ‘Though . . . what?’
    ‘There might just be an opportunity next week. We’re going to have a caller – a fellow from the bank, wants to talk to Mrs T about her bank affairs. She wants me on the Thursday, to be on call while he is there, though I’ll get a day in lieu. Friday, most likely, if that is any good?’
    Any good? He could have kissed the fellow from the bank. ‘I’m off-duty from one o’clock that day. I could come . . .’
    She shook her head at him. ‘Better meet you somewhere. You know Mount Misery?’
    He looked perplexed. ‘I think I’ve heard of it – not a name you easily forget. Isn’t that out somewhere on the road towards Land’s End?’
    She nodded, grinning. ‘Just where it branches out towards St Just. Not far out of town – it gets its name from the fever hospital. But don’t worry, it’s a lovely place – with footpaths out to Devil’s Rock or up around the lanes. Two o’clock Friday, I’ll do my very best. Though, the way things are, I make no promises.’ And before Alex could say another word, she’d pushed the parcel in under the hedge and hurried round towards the back again.
    He stood for a moment, gazing after her, until a sharp voice at his elbow brought him to himself. ‘Now look here, young constable, I’m sure you’re on your beat and you’ve got good reason to be standing here, but when you’ve quite finished I needs to wiggle past and get me cleaning tools. I got the steps to scrub and I’m already late.’ Shrew-faced Mrs Mitchell was glaring up at him.
    He reminded himself about her husband being bad and managed to mutter ‘Please excuse me!’ with some grace before he went back to resume his street patrol. He walked the beat with what he thought was proper diligence, but when he got back he found that there was nothing to report. Perhaps his mind had not been wholly on his task.
    His mind was racing forward to the roster for next week, but there was nothing he could do to find out what it was – or alter it – so after tea he went back to his notes, and tried to occupy his wayward brain by revising how to make a plaster cast of footprints at a scene. He’d never done it, but he hoped to have the chance. Sergeant Vigo said it was the surest way of catching thieves.
    Lettie was not in the sunniest of moods. Come to that it wasn’t the sunniest of days – the clouds were gathering and it looked as if there would be rain by dusk. Already her hair, which she’d