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clock.
    Wasting no time in explanation, he pushed his head in through the open window of the driving-seat and fixed his eyes on the battered face of the clock. The hands, which providentially had suffered no damage, had stopped at exactly five minutes to ten. 9.55 p.m.! What time could have fitted in better with his theory that William was the murderer? If he could have chosen a time to illustrate his suspicion it would have been within five minutes one way or the other of ten o’clock! Did it mean that he was now in a position to make an arrest?

Chapter Five
    The Cloaked Man
    â€œThat’s all very fine,” Major Forest was saying, “but who sent the telegram? William couldn’t have sent it himself. He was at Chalklands. It argues a collaborator in Littlehampton, doesn’t it?”
    â€œThe aunt or Dr. Wakefield,” suggested Meredith.
    â€œPossibly—but a risk, since we should immediately suspect them. Moreover, they would be known locally and might have been recognized either by the post office officials or anybody in the post office at the time. No, my dear fellow, I suspect somebody unknown in Littlehampton—a down-and-out, perhaps, paid to do the job but with no knowledge of William’s criminal intentions. Now what about this skull? Has it turned up yet?”
    Meredith shook his head.
    Major Forest paused, puffed noisily at his pipe and jerked out: “You know, Meredith, you’ve over-jumped the mark. You’ve assumed that Rother was killed by a blunt instrument. Why not shot or stabbed? You haven’t got the skull to prove the type of wound.”
    â€œNot shot, sir,” corrected Meredith. “There was obviously a violent and prolonged struggle in the car before Rother was rendered unconscious. Shooting at short range like that—you remember there was blood actually on the driving-seat?—would be instantly fatal. Particularly as Rother appears to have been wounded in the head. Stabbing is a possibility—but if so the murderer bungled the job pretty badly. One usually stabs a man in the heart or neck, not in the head. You follow my line of argument, sir?”
    â€œPerfectly. I don’t necessarily agree with it. Not that it matters much at this stage how the poor devil was killed. I merely ask because if your ‘blunt instrument’ theory is right there should be a chance of tracing the weapon. You suspect now that William Rother murdered his brother on the way back from Littlehampton. The chances are that he would have used a spanner or a hammer or something of that sort, eh?”
    â€œThat’s what I imagine.”
    â€œHe then places his brother’s body in the Morris Cowley—say in the back with a rug thrown over it—drives home to the farm, hides the body some-where, and later dismembers it and places it piecemeal on the kiln.”
    â€œThat’s the idea, sir.”
    â€œWhat about his car—have you examined it? There must have been a tidy mess on the mat and floor-boards. Again—what about William’s clothes? Could he have dumped the body in his car without staining his own suit with blood? Remember that he went straight into the house when he got back, had a drink, read the paper, and went to bed. He couldn’t have changed his clothes because his wife would have noticed the fact and commented on it. A man doesn’t usually change his suit about half an hour before going to bed.”
    Meredith looked a trifle dismal.
    â€œYou think my theory’s a bad egg, sir?”
    â€œA curate’s egg, Meredith—good in parts. Look at it this way—according to you William had an hour and a half in which to get from Littlehampton to Chalklands, drive out under Cissbury, murder his brother, place the body in the car, dispose of it in some safe hiding-place near the farmhouse, garage the Morris, remove all traces of blood-stains from the back seat and from his own person. He would