He was shown into a comfortable study, and there after a few moments he was joined by an elderly man, clean shaven, white haired, and kindly looking. ‘Good morning,’ said the latter. ‘You wished to see me?’ Tanner rose and bowed. ‘Yes, sir,’ he answered, ‘for a moment.’ ‘Sit down, won’t you?’ His host waved him to an arm-chair and seated himself at his desk. ‘My business, sir,’ went on Tanner, ‘is, I expect, of a rather unusual kind for you to deal with. My name is Tanner—Inspector Tanner of New Scotland Yard, and I have come to ask your kind help in obtaining some information of which I am in need.’ If the clergyman was surprised he did not show it. ‘And what is the nature of the information?’ he asked. Tanner took the photograph from his pocket. ‘We have had,’ he explained, ‘to arrest a man on suspicion of a serious crime—murder, in fact. The only clue to his antecedents we have is this photograph. You will see it represents part of your churchyard, and the headstone in the foreground is in memory of John Dale and his wife, Eleanor. We thought if we could find out something about these Dales, it might help us.’ ‘Is Dale the name of your suspect?’ ‘No, sir, he is called Douglas, but of course that may not be his real name.’ The clergyman thought for a few moments. ‘I fear I cannot tell you very much,’ he said at last. ‘When I came here thirteen years ago there was no one of that name in the parish. I do remember hearing of the family you mention, but they had moved some years previously.’ ‘You don’t know to where?’ ‘Unfortunately I do not.’ ‘Perhaps, sir, some of your remaining parishioners could tell me?’ ‘That’s what I was going to suggest.’ The clergyman again paused. ‘There is a family called Clayton living close by, gentlemen farmers, who have been here for generations. Old Mr Clayton is well over seventy, but still remains hale and hearty—a wonderful man for his age. I should think that if anyone could give you your information, he could. He’ll probably be at home now, and if you like, I’ll go down with you and introduce you.’ ‘I should be more than grateful.’ ‘Come then,’ said the vicar, leading the way. The Claytons lived on the outskirts of the village in a charming little creeper-covered house, standing in small but perfectly kept grounds. As the two men passed up the rose-bordered path to the door, they were hailed from the lawn behind. An old gentleman with a full white beard, a grey felt hat, and a tweed suit was approaching. ‘Mornin’, vicar,’ he cried cheerily. ‘How are you, Mr Clayton? Beautiful morning. Can we have a word with you?’ ‘Delighted, I’m sure. Come in here. It’s always better out of doors than in, eh, Vicar?’ He shook hands with the clergyman, and turned expectantly to Tanner. ‘May I introduce Mr Tanner? Mr Tanner has just called with me in search of some information which I unfortunately was unable to give him, but which I thought you possibly might.’