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exactly according to schedule. "Now," he said, "we've got a quiet quarter of an hour to spend before we get to Binver. And I'd be dashed glad if you'd tell me two things. First, how can anyone have planned and executed a murder in a third-class carriage on a train so infernally crowded as this one is?"

"They may have been travelling first. No one examines the tickets."

"But even so, look at the risks. We should have had that fat old party in here if I hadn't puffed smoke in her face, and there are very few firsts on the train. Our man took big chances, that's certain."

"And the other point?"

"Why did Davenant come up by this train yesterday? Of course you don't know the place as I do, but Davenant's a scratch player, and a bit of a local celebrity. Every child in the place knows that Davenant only comes down here for week-ends, and it's impossible to get a game with him except on Sunday. Why does he suddenly turn up on a Tuesday afternoon?"

"Well, I suppose he's a right to, hasn't he? I thought you were saying he has a cottage here?"

"Yes, but one's bound to notice every deviation from the normal when one's trying to trace causes. Look here, here's Whitchurch. Do you mind getting out and calling at the Hatcheries—that house, there—and finding out, on some excuse, when Davenant got there, and whether he's there now?