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Updated: May 3, 2025
Come out to the bungalow and I'll tell you what there is to tell. There's been a murder all right, but we're more likely to find the murderer than his victim." They went out together and soon stood in the building. "Now let's have the story from where you come in," said Brendon, and Inspector Halfyard told his tale. "Somewhere about a quarter after midnight I was knocked up.
Then he turned to examine the kitchen more closely. A very careful survey produced no results and he could find nothing that the carpenters were not able to account for. There was no evidence of any struggle. A sheep might as easily have been killed in the chamber as a man; but he judged the blood to be human and Halfyard had made one discovery of possible importance.
To the last place he sent a special direction and told Inspector Halfyard to visit Mrs. Gerry at Station Cottages and make a careful examination of the room which Robert Redmayne had there occupied. A sense of unreality impressed itself upon Mark Brendon after this stage in his inquiry.
What is more, both Miss Reed and her parents made it clear that the soldier was of an excitable and uncertain nature. In fact Mr. Reed didn't much approve of the match. He described a man who might very easily slip over the border line between reason and unreason. No, Halfyard, you'll not find any theory to hold water but the theory of a mental breakdown.
Half a dozen masons and carpenters were eating their meal in a wooden shed near the building and with them sat two constables and their superior officer. Inspector Halfyard rose as Brendon appeared, came forward, and shook hands. "Lucky you was on the spot, my dear," he said in his homely Devon way. "Not that it begins to look as if there was anything here deep enough to ask for your cleverness."
They called him at ten o'clock no answer. They went in his room. Not there and bed not slept in and his clothes not changed. He's not been seen since." "Hold on. Mark Brendon's here and has the case. He'll speak." Inspector Halfyard reported the statement and Brendon picked up the mouthpiece. "Detective Brendon speaking. Who is it?" "Inspector Reece, Paignton."
Between ourselves, I'm rather ashamed of myself, Halfyard. I've missed something the thing that most mattered. There's a signpost sticking up somewhere that I never saw." The inspector nodded. "It happens so sometimes cruel vexing and then people laugh at us and ask how we earn our money.
Inspector Halfyard stood six feet high and had curiously broad, square shoulders; but his imposing torso was ill supported. His legs were very thin and long, and they turned out a trifle. With his prominent nose, small head, and bright little slate-grey eyes, he looked rather like a stork. He was rheumatic, too, and walked stiffly. "This here hole is no place for my legs," he confessed.
"Let me see what's to be seen here, then," said Brendon, and they entered the kitchen of the bungalow together. Brendon followed Halfyard into the apartment destined to be the kitchen of Michael Pendean's bungalow, and the inspector lifted some tarpaulins that had been thrown upon a corner of the room.
"All over bar shouting, I reckon," said Halfyard. "It looks like it. He's mad, poor devil." "It's the dead man I'm sorry for." Brendon considered, having first looked at his watch. Personal thoughts would thrust themselves upon him, though he felt both surprise and shame that they could do so. Certain realities were clear enough to his mind, however future details might develop.
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