Armadale stepped forward.
“You're Mr. Fordingbridge, aren't you?” he asked.
The apparition nodded, and fixed its eyes on him without saying anything.
“I'm Inspector Armadale. I suppose you know that your friend Staveley was murdered last night?”
Derek Fordingbridge shook his head.
“I heard there had been a murder. I believe they borrowed the boat from here to use in bringing the body in. But I didn't know it was Staveley. Who did it?”
“Weren't you surprised that he didn't come home last night?” the inspector demanded.
Something which might have been a smile passed over the shattered face.
“No. He had a knack of staying out all night often enough. It wasn't uncommon. Was there a woman in the case?”
“I think we'll get on faster if you let me do the questioning,” said the inspector bluntly. “I'm sorry I haven't any time to spare just now. Can you tell me anything about Staveley?”