Inspector Alleyn 3-Book Collection 10: Last Ditch, Black As He’s Painted, Grave Mistake. Ngaio Marsh

should have heard them! And every one directed at your Boomer,’ said Mr Whipplestone. He bent over the album, ‘I don’t suppose I’ve looked at this,’ he said, ‘for over a decade. It was stowed away in a trunk with a lot of others in my old flat. Even so, I might have remembered, one would have thought.’

      ‘I expect he’s changed. After all – twenty years!’

      ‘He hasn’t changed all that much in looks and I can’t believe he’s changed at all in temperament.’

      ‘And you’ve no notion what became of him when he got out?’

      ‘None. Portuguese East, perhaps. Or South America. Or a change of name. Ultimately, by fair means or foul, a British passport.’

      ‘And finally whatever he does in the City?’

      ‘Imports coffee perhaps,’ sniffed Mr Whipplestone.

      ‘His English is non-committal?’

      ‘Oh, yes. No accent, unless you count a lisp which I suppose is a hangover. Let me give you a drink.’

      ‘Not another, thank you, Sam. I must keep my wits about me, such as they are.’ He hesitated for a moment and then said: ‘There’s one thing I think perhaps you should know. It’s about the Chubbs. But before I go any further I’m going to ask you, very seriously indeed, to give an undertaking not to let what I tell you make any difference any difference at all – to your normal manner with the Chubbs. If you’d rather not make a blind commitment like this, then I’ll keep my big mouth shut and no bones broken.’

      Mr Whipplestone said quietly: ‘Is it to their discredit?’