"Ricky Fleet had been usin' the prison for his amorous adventures, Pan-pipes and nature-worship, which weren't of a sadistic kind. Masters has discovered he got back the rapier-dagger collection from the ghost-village…
"Ghost-village? You saw it Built beyond the prison. The Governor's house was there. George Fleet gave that collection to Major Colwell, and Major Colwell left it behind when everybody decamped. So Ricky Fleet had a second dagger, very like the first, when he led Enid Puckston toward the prison to kill her."
Martin cleared his throat "H.M. Was she one of Ricky's —?"
H.M.'s expression was heavy and bitter.
"No, son. That's the real irony of this case. She liked and admired him an awful lot, as I could tell when I heard her mention him at the pub. That's all it amounted to. But— haven't you wondered why Puckston sent those anonymous postcards in the first place?"
"You mean she wasn't one of Ricky's conquests, but—?"
"Her father thought she might be," replied H.M.
He was silent for a moment, glowering.
"Mind you, Puckston didn't know the boy Richard Fleet had done that murder years ago. He'd seen what he knew was the light on a cricket-bat He guessed nobody but a kid could have crawled under that ledge unseen. He had no proof and anyway he didn't want trouble. But if Enid had fallen for this bloke years later—! So he sent the postcards, with her help but without her knowin'; and then he thinks she's been killed, by the same boy grown up, because she knows too much! Do you wonder at Puckston's state of mind on Sunday night?"
"No," Martin answered. "No. I don't wonder."