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contrary,” Aylmer said, the smile broadening; somehow, it was easy to imagine the type of thing that Garfield would say. “Well, no need to keep you long, Miss Woburn, you’ll be wanting your dinner. Very plucky thing you did, if you don’t mind my saying so. Not a very nice job for—”
    â€œIt had to be done.”
    â€œHim, yes, but you didn’t have to do it,” said Aylmer. “Well, the thing I’m anxious to know is whether you saw anyone else near the spot about the time you were there, Miss Woburn. You’d seen Mr. Merrow before, I suppose?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAnd you went the long way round and he took the short cut.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWhy was that, Miss Woburn?”
    It would be easy to say that it was none of his business, yet she sensed that would be the wrong thing. She felt herself going red, and remembered Priscilla’s scarlet flush; that made it worse. The flushing didn’t affect her voice or her manner.
    â€œWe’d had a disagreement, and preferred to go different ways. I didn’t see anyone else nearby.”
    â€œSure, Miss Woburn?”
    â€œI am positive.”
    â€œWell, that’s a pity,” said Aylmer, rubbing his chin; she heard the scratching sound as his finger ran over the stubble. “I hoped you might have seen the devil who put those traps there. It’s a funny thing, but we happen to know they weren’t there half an hour or so earlier, one of the gardeners chanced to have walked that way. You didn’t hear anyone, I suppose?”
    â€œNo,” said Joanna.
    â€œWell, can’t be helped,” said Aylmer, “it might delay us a bit but it won’t stop us from catching the beggar sooner or later. We know where the traps came from, that’s a help.”
    She was startled.
    â€œBut if you know whose they are, surely you know who put them there.”
    â€œDifferent thing altogether,” Aylmer assured her. “Belonged to Jeff Liddicombe, at the ‘Grey Mare’. He’s got an old stable turned into a saloon that’s quite a museum in its way, and those old traps were on the wall to his knowledge at two o’clock today. Closing time. Jeff Liddicombe would no more put traps down than he’d use a whip to a horse, Miss Woburn, it’s just one of those things that don’t happen. Those traps were stolen and put down there for some purpose which isn’t clear yet, but—”
    â€œSurely to catch rabbits! Poachers—”
    â€œRabbits in traps that size?”Aylmer scoffed. “Can tell you’re not a countrywoman. Meant for foxes, they were, and there haven’t been many round here for thirty or fifty years. Mantraps, you might say. Has Mr. Merrow said anything to you to suggest he’s worried about attacks on his life?”
    That question came so swiftly upon the maid’s story that it was like a blow in the face. Joanna didn’t answer. She saw the interest quickening in Aylmer’s eyes, but still didn’t speak; and she realised that her silence would almost certainly be misconstrued.
    â€œWhat has he said?”demanded the detective.
    â€œNothing,” Joanna answered, too quickly. “Nothing at all.” If she started to explain, it would seem such a rigmarole; and she wanted to keep out of any fending and probing, out of anything which would show George Merrow up as a Don Juan whose greatest triumphs were with little country maids. “I’m sorry, Superintendent. Even if there were anything on Mr. Merrow’s mind, he wouldn’t be likely to confide in me. We were not particularly close friends.”
    Aylmer looked at her very straightly.
    â€œMiss Woburn,” he said severely, “whatever your personal feelings or views, it is always wise to make a full statement to the police of any matter worrying you. Anything you say will be regarded as completely