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'She's no worse than yesterday； Mr Halley。 When can you return？'
'Sometime soon。'
'Good。'
I spent the afternoon exchanging my old vulnerable analog mobile cellular telephone for a digital mobile receiving eight splintered transmissions that would baffle even the Thames Valley stalwarts； let alone The Pump。
From my flat I then phoned Miss Richardson of Northamptonshire； who said vehemently that no； I certainly might not call on her again。 Ginnie and Gordon Quint were her dear friends and it was unthinkable that Ellis could harm horses； and I was foul and wicked even to think it。 Ginnie had told her about it。 Ginnie had been very distressed。 It was all my fault that she had killed herself。
I persevered with two questions； however； and did get answers of sorts。
'Did your vet say how long he thought the foot had been off when the colt was found at seven o'clock？'
'No； he didn't。'
'Could you give me his name and phone number？'
'No。'
As I had over the years accumulated a whole shelfful of area telephone directories； it was not so difficult； via the Northamptonshire Yellow Pages to find and talk to Miss Richardson's vet。 He would； he said； have been helpful if he could。 All he could with confidence say was that neither the colt's leg nor the severed foot had shown signs of recent bleeding。 Miss Richardson herself had insisted he put the colt out of his misery immediately； and； as it was also his own judgement； he had done so。
He had been unable to suggest to the police any particular time for the attack； earlier rather than later was as far as he could go。 The wound had been clean： one chop。 The vet said he was surprised a yearling would have stood still long enough for shears to be applied。 Yes； he confirmed； the colt had been lightly shod； and yes； there had been horse…nuts scattered around； but Miss Richardson often gave her horses nuts as a supplement to grass。
He'd been helpful； but no help。
After that I had to decide how to get to the lake； as the normal taken…for…granted act of driving now had plications。 I had a knob fixed on the steering wheel of my Mercedes which gave me a good grip for one…（right）handed operation。 With my left unfeeling hand I shifted the automatic gear lever。
I experimentally flexed and clenched my right hand。 Sharp protests。 Boring。 With irritation I resorted to ibuprofen and drove to the lake wishing Chico were around to do it。
Norman had winched his boat onto its trailer by the edge of the water。 Big； petent and observant； he watched my slow emergence to upright and frowned。
'What hurts？'he asked。
'Self…esteem。'
He laughed。 'Give me a hand with the boat； will you？ Pull when I lift。'
I looked at the job and said briefly that I couldn't。
'You only need one hand for pulling。'
I told him unemotionally that Gordon Quint had aimed for my head and done lesser but inconvenient damage。 'I'm telling you； in case he tries again and succeeds。 He was slightly out of his mind over Ginnie。'
Norman predictably said I should make an official plaint。
'No；' I said。 'This is unofficial； and ends right here。'
He went off to fetch a friend to help him with the boat； and then busied himself with enclosing his powerful outboard engine into a fitted zipped cover。
I said； 'What first gave you the feeling that there was some heavyweight meandering behind the scenes？'
'First？' He went on working while he thought。 'It's months ago。 I talked it over with Archie。 I expect it was because one minute I was putting together an ordinary case…even if Ellis Quint's fame made it newsworthy…and the next I was being leaned on by the Superintendent to find some reason to drop it； and when I showed him the strength of the evidence； he said the Chief Constable was unhappy； and the reason for the Chief Constable's unhappiness was always the same； which was political pressure from outside。'
'What sort of political？'
Norman shrugged。 'Not party politics especially。 A pressure group。 Lobbying。 A bargain struck somewhere； along the lines of 〃get the Quint prosecution aborted and such…and…such a good thing will e your way！〃'
'But not a direct cash advantage？'
'Sid！'
'Well； sorry。'
'I should frigging well hope so。' He wrapped thick twine round the shrouded engine。 'I'm not asking cash for a strip of rag from Northamptonshire。'
'I grovel；' I said。
He grinned。 'That'll be the day。' He climbed into his boat and secured various bits of equipment against movement en route。
'No one has entirely given in to the pressure；' he pointed out。 'The case against Ellis Quint has not been dropped。 True； it's now in a ropey state。 You yourself have been relentlessly discredited to the point where you're almost a liability to the prosecution； and even though that's brutally unfair； it's a fact。'
'Mm。'
In effect； I thought； I'd been missioned by Davis Tatum to find out who had campaigned to defeat me。 It wasn't the first time I'd faced campaigns to enforce my inactivity； but it was the first time I'd been offered a fee to save myself。 To save myself； in this instance； meant to defeat Ellis Quint： so I was being paid for that； in the first place。 And for what else？
Norman backed his car up to the boat trailer and hitched them together。 Then he leaned through the open front passenger window of the car； unlocked the glove partment there； and drew out and handed to me a plastic bag。
'One strip of dirty rag；' he said cheerfully。 'Cost to you； six grovels before breakfast for a week。'
I took the bag gratefully。 Inside； the filthy strip； about three inches wide； had been loosely folded until it was several layers thick。
'It's about a metre long；' Norman said。 'It was all they would let me have。 I had to sign for it。'
'Good。'
'What are you going to do with it？'
'Clean it； for a start。'
Norman said doubtfully； 'It's got some sort of pattern in it but there wasn't any printing on the whole wrapping。 Nothing to say where it came from。 No garden centre name； or anything。'
'I don't have high hopes；' I said； 'but； frankly； just now every straw's worth clutching。'
Norman stood with his legs apart and his hands on his hips。 He looked a pillar of every possible police strength but what he was actually feeling turned out to be indecision。
'How far can I trust you？' he asked。
'For silence？'
He nodded。
'I thought we'd discussed this already。'
'Yes； but that was months ago。'
'Nothing's changed；'I said。
He made a decision； stuck his head into his car again and this time brought out a business…sized brown envelope which he held out to me。
'It's a copy of the analysis done on the horse…nuts；' he said。 'So read it and shred it。'
'OK。 And thanks。'
I held the envelope and plastic bag together and knew I couldn't take such trust lightly。 He must be very sure of me； I thought； and felt not plimented but apprehensive。
'I've been thinking；' I said； 'do you remember； way back in June； when we took those things out of Gordon Quint's Land…Rover？'
'Of course； I remember。'
'There was a farrier's apron in the Land…Rover。 Rolled up。 We didn't take that； did we？'
He frow