There was no telephone, and hammering on the locked door brought no response from any of the neighbours, and so they had to resort to taking it in turns to shout for help down into the empty street. Lights went on in the neighbouring houses, but it was still a maddeningly long time before people appeared below the window, and then there was a further delay while they had to satisfy a would-be rescuer that they were law enforcers and not lawbreakers. Eventually, however, a ladder appeared out of the darkness and the two policemen were able to climb down to the ground. Clayton already had his car running by the time Trave had pressed a pound note into the hand of the ladder’s owner and had joined him, taking the passenger seat, and Clayton wasted no time in heading off. ‘To Blackwater?’ he asked, glancing at his companion. ‘Yes, you heard Jacob,’ said Trave with a sigh. ‘That’s where he’s going. Maybe not tonight, but sooner rather than later. He’s convinced himself that there’s vital evidence somewhere in the house, and he won’t rest until he’s found it, although personally I think it’s a wild-goose chase.
