“You the lodgekeeper here?” asked Skewes. “Well, we're police officers from Scotland Yard enquiring into the death of that Mr. Mason. You knew him? Then when was he here last?”
“Sunday week,” replied the man promptly, “the Sunday before he shot himself.”
“How do you remember?” asked Skewes.
“Because I opened the gates for him and let him in and let him out again, later. The gates are always kept closed on Sundays, because holiday bicyclists and strangers come in and pick the flowers.”
“Is that the only day they're kept shut?”
“No, on Thursdays as well, because that's North Walsham market day and passing cattle and sheep would get in.”
“I think you've made a mistake about the last time Mr. Mason came,” broke in Mendel very politely. “We understood he came on the Wednesday morning.”
T
