"Where's the data you collected about that murder?" Hannasyde asked suddenly. "Let me have a look at it."
The Sergeant handed him some typewritten notes. "Not that you'll be able to make much of it," he remarked pessimistically.
Hannasyde ran his eye down the notes. "Yes, I thought so. Landlady stated Carpenter was alive at 9.30. Dora Jenkins said that the man in evening dress passed by on the other side of the road just before the policeman appeared, coming from the other direction."
"Yes, and if you read on a bit further you'll see that her boy-friend said the policeman came by ages before the man in evening dress. Of the two, I'd sooner believe him. She was simply trying to spin a good tale."
"She was, but surely - yes, I thought so. Brown put the time he saw the policeman at about 9.40, and stated that as far as he could remember the man in evening dress passed a minute or two later. That seems to tally more or less with the girl's story. Did we ascertain from the Constable what time it was when he entered Barnsley Street?"
"No," admitted the Sergeant. "As he didn't see any man in evening dress, or notice anything wrong at No. 43, I didn't think that it was important."
"I wonder?" Hannasyde was frowning at the opposite wall.
"Got an idea, Chief?" the Sergeant asked, his interest reviving.
Hannasyde glanced at him. "No. But I think we'll find out just when the Constable did pass up the street."
The Sergeant said briefly: "Sorry, Chief!" and picked up the telephone-receiver.