“That’s right, sir; there ain’t nothing else stops here after the midday train. Of course there’s the fast train to Binver, but that passes through ’ere. You travellin’, sir?” “Just to Binver. Hullo, there’s the booking-office opening at last. D’you mind getting two firsts for Binver, Gordon? Very sad thing that, about Mr. Brotherhood,” he went on to the porter. “That’s right, sir; very melancholy thing, sir.” “I suppose you didn’t see him get on to the train?” “There’s such a lot of ’em, sir, you don’t notice ’em, not the ones that travel every day. And Mr. Brotherhood, ’e was a man as ’adn’t many words for anybody. Though of course there’s some as is different; d’you know Mr. Davenant, sir, up at the Hatcheries? He’s a nice gentleman, that is, has a word for everybody. I seed ’im getting off of the London train, and ’e asked me after my bit of garden—nothing stuck-up about ’im. Excuse me, sir.” And, as the London train swung into view, he proceeded up and down the platform making a noise something like Paston Oatvile, for the information of anybody who could not read notice-boards. The London train was undeniably full to overflowing, and even when the Paston Oatvile residents had diminished the number, there were enough waiting for the Paston Whitchurch and Binver train to leave no compartment unoccupied. Even in their first-class carriage, it was only by luck that Reeves and Gordon managed to travel by themselves. “I say,” began Gordon, “why Binver? We don’t want to go beyond Whitchurch, do we?” “Oh, it’s just an idea of mine. We can get a train back in time for dinner. Don’t you come unless you’d like to. Steady, here we are.” And they swept slowly past the scene they had just been viewing from the solid ground. Reeves opened the door a little as they passed, and threw out a fresh stone; he had the satisfaction of seeing it disappear 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?”