‘I can understand,’ he said, ‘that you’d like to get it over. We’ll go now.’

He rose and escorted her out of the room to the waiting car. Her nervousness when they got to where they were going, was no more than the nervousness of other people he had taken to this same place. He said the usual reassuring things.

‘It’ll be quite all right. Nothing distressing. It will only take a minute or two.’

The tray was rolled out, the attendant lifted the sheet. She stood staring down for a few moments, her breath came a little faster, she made a faint gasping sound, then she turned away abruptly. She said:

‘It’s Harry. Yes. He’s a lot older, he looks different…But it’s Harry.’

The inspector nodded to the attendant, then he laid his hand on her arm and took her out again to the car and they drove back to the station. He didn’t say anything. He left her to pull herself together. When they got back to his room a constable came in almost at once with a tray of tea.

‘There you are, Mrs Rival. Have a cup, it’ll pull you together. Then we’ll talk.’

‘Thank you.’ 

She put sugar in the tea, a good deal of it, and gulped it down quickly.

‘That’s better,’ she said. ‘It’s not that Imind really. Only-only, well it does turn you up a bit, doesn’t it?’

‘You think this man is definitely your husband?’

‘I’m sure he is. Of course, he’s much older, but he hasn’t changed really so much. He always looked-well, very neat. Nice, you know, good class.’

Yes, thought Hardcastle, it was quite a good description. Good class. Presumably, Harry had looked much better class than he was. Some men did, and it was helpful to them for their particular purposes.

Mrs Rival said, ‘He was very particular always about his clothes and everything. That’s why, I think-they fell for him so easily. They never suspected anything.’

‘Who fell for him, Mrs Rival?’ Hardcastle’s voice was gentle, sympathetic.

‘Women,’ said Mrs Rival. ‘Women. That’s where he was most of the time.’

‘I see. And you got to know about it.’

‘Well, I-I suspected. I mean, he was away such a lot. Of course I knew what men are like. I thought probably therewas a girl from time to time. But it’s no good asking men about these things. They’ll lie to you and that’s all. But I didn’t think-I really didn’t think that he made abusiness of it.’ 

‘And did he?’

She nodded. ‘I think he must have done.’

‘How did you find out?’

She shrugged her shoulders.

‘He came back one day from a trip he’d taken. To Newcastle, hesaid. Anyway, he came back and said he’d have to clear out quickly. He said that the game was up. There was some woman he’d got into trouble. A school teacher, he said, and there might be a bit of a stink about it. I asked him questions then. He didn’t mind telling me. Probably he thought I knew more than I did. They used to fall for him, you know, easily enough, just as I did. He’d give her a ring and they’d get engaged-and then he’d say he’d invest money for them. They usually gave it him quite easily.’

‘Had he tried the same thing with you?’

‘He had, as a matter of fact, only I didn’t give him any.’

‘Why not? Didn’t you trust him even then?’

‘Well, I wasn’t the kind that trusts anybody. I’d had what you’d call a bit of experience, you know, of men and their ways and the seamier side of things. Anyway, I didn’t want him investing my money for me. What money I had I could invest for myself. Always keep your money in your hands and then you’ll be sure you’ve got it! I’ve seen too many girls and women make fools of themselves.’ 

‘When did he want you to invest money? Before you were married or after?’

‘I think he suggested something of the kind beforehand, but I didn’t respond and he sheered off the subject at once. Then, after we were married, he told me about some wonderful opportunity he’d got. I said, “Nothing doing.” It wasn’t only because I didn’t trust him, but I’d often heard men say they’re on to something wonderful and then it turned out that they’d been had for a mug themselves.’

‘Had your husband ever been in trouble with the police?’

‘No fear,’ said Mrs Rival. ‘Women don’t like the world to know they’ve been duped. But this time, apparently, things might be different. This girl or woman, she was an educated woman. She wouldn’t be as easy to deceive as the others may have been.’

‘She was going to have a child?’

‘Yes.’

‘Had that happened on other occasions?’

‘I rather think so.’ She added, ‘I don’t honestly know what it was used to start him off in the first place. Whether it wasonly the money-a way of getting a living, as you might say-or whether he was the kind of man who justhad to have women and he saw no reason why they shouldn’t pay the expenses of his fun.’ There was no bitterness now in her voice. 

Hardcastle said gently:

‘You were fond of him, Mrs Rival?’

‘I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. I suppose I was in a way, or I wouldn’t have married him…’

‘Youwere -excuse me-married to him?’

‘I don’t even know that for sure,’ said Mrs Rival frankly. ‘We were married all right. In a church, too, but I don’t know if he had married other women as well, using a different name, I suppose. His name was Castleton when I married him. I don’t think it was his own name.’

‘Harry Castleton. Is that right?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you lived in this place, Shipton Bois, as man and wife-for how long?’

‘We’d been there about two years. Before that we lived near Doncaster. I don’t say I was really surprised when he came back that day and told me. I think I’d known he was a wrong ’un for some time. One just couldn’t believe it because, you see, he always seemed so respectable. So absolutely the gentleman!’

‘And what happened then?’

‘He said he’d got to get out of there quick and I said he could go and good riddance, that I wasn’t standing for all this!’ She added thoughtfully, ‘I gave him ten pounds. It was all I had in the house. He said he was short of money…I’ve never seen or heard of him since. Until today. Or rather, until I saw his picture in the paper.’

‘He didn’t have any special distinguishing marks? Scars? An operation-or a fracture-anything like that?’

She shook her head.

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Did he ever use the name Curry?’

‘Curry? No, I don’t think so. Not that I know of, anyway.’ Hardcastle slipped the card across the table to her.

‘This was in his pocket,’ he said.

‘Still saying he’s an insurance agent, I see,’ she remarked. ‘I expect he uses-used, I mean-all sorts of different names.’

‘You say you’ve never heard of him for the last fifteen years?’

‘He hasn’t sent me a Christmas card, if that’s what you mean,’ said Mrs Rival, with a sudden glint of humour. ‘I don’t suppose he’d know where I was, anyway. I went back to the stage for a bit after we parted. On tour mostly. It wasn’t much of a life and I dropped the name of Castleton too. Went back to Merlina Rival.’

‘Merlina’s-er-not your real name, I suppose?’

She shook her head and a faint, cheerful smile appeared on her face. 

‘I thought it up. Unusual. My real name’s Flossie Gapp. Florence, I suppose I must have been christened, but everyone always calls me Flossie or Flo. Flossie Gapp. Not very romantic, is it?’

‘What are you doing now? Are you still acting, Mrs Rival?’

‘Occasionally,’ said Mrs Rival with a touch of reticence. ‘On and off, as you might say.’

Hardcastle was tactful.

‘I see,’ he said.

‘I do odd jobs here and there,’ she said. ‘Help out at parties, a bit of hostess work, that sort of thing. It’s not a bad life. At any rate you meet people. Things get near the bone now and again.’

‘You’ve never heard anything of Henry Castleton since you parted-or about him?’

‘Not a word. I thought perhaps he’d gone abroad-or was dead.’