Hatherley remained in the doorway.
"Adrian," he said. "Yes. Terrible business."
"You've heard about his death?" Relf asked.
"Of course."
His eyes returned to Eleanor.
"And you are?"
"Dr Eleanor Harcourt."
"The pathologist?"
"How did you know that?"
"I read the local paper."
"My name hasn't been in it."
Hatherley shifted his stick.
"Then perhaps Adrian mentioned you."
"When?"
"I couldn't tell you."
Relf put away his identification.
"May we come in?"
Hatherley stepped aside.
His right leg did not bend normally. He placed the foot carefully before bringing the left through, using the stick for support. Eleanor watched him cross the hall, then made herself look elsewhere.
The house had been renovated with considerable care. At the rear, broad windows looked across the Marsh. Hatherley led them into a study lined with books: law, shipping, maritime history, Kent and Sussex.
"Tea?"
"No, thank you," Relf said.
"Yes, please," Eleanor said.
Hatherley left them.
Relf leaned towards her.
"Let me ask the questions."
"He knew who I was."
"I heard."
"And the leg."
"I saw that too."
She sat back.
Hatherley returned with a tray, his stick hooked over one forearm. He set it down carefully and poured three cups.
Relf accepted his without comment.
"How long had you known Adrian Bull?"
"Forty-odd years. We were close once. Less so recently."
"You met in Hong Kong?"
"Yes."
"What were you doing there?"
"Maritime law. Adrian was researching commercial connections between Britain and the Far East, though he spent a good deal of time pursuing other interests."
"Did you stay in touch?"
"Intermittently."
"When did you last see him?"
Hatherley looked towards the window.
"A month ago. Perhaps five weeks."
"Not more recently?"
"No."
"Did you see him in Rye two evenings before his death?"
Hatherley turned back.
"No."
Relf made a note.
"Do you ring church bells?"
"Bells?"
"Church bells."
"No."
"Have you ever rung?"
"No."
"Not at university?"
"I was at Cambridge, Inspector. That doesn't mean I joined every society."
Eleanor lifted her cup. Hatherley noticed, but said nothing.
"Where were you on Monday evening?" Relf asked.
"Here."
"Alone?"
"Yes."
"Did anyone visit?"
"No."
"Any telephone calls?"
"I expect so."
"Could you check?"
Hatherley put down his tea.
"Am I a suspect?"
"We're trying to establish what Bull did that evening."
"By asking what I did."
"You knew him. We need to speak to the people who might have seen him."
"I didn't."
Relf closed his notebook and stood.
"Thank you."
Eleanor followed, surprised that he was leaving without mentioning the diary.
In the hall, she noticed a photograph on a side table. A young Hatherley stood with six other men in dinner jackets. Behind them was a stone courtyard.
One held a small handbell.
She slowed, but there was no caption she could read without picking up the frame. It might have been a society photograph, or a dinner, or some college occasion. She followed Relf to the door.
"One more thing," he said. "B.H. Mean anything to you?"
"My initials."
"Bull used them in his diary. There's an appointment entered for Monday."
"Then it wasn't with me."
"You're certain?"
"Yes."
Hatherley opened the door.
As they stepped outside, he said, "Inspector."
Relf turned.
"I hope Adrian's interest in puzzles hasn't distracted you from what seems the obvious explanation."
"Which is?"
"He fell. Old churches can be dangerous, especially around bell frames."
Relf watched him.
"We haven't released what he struck his head on."
Hatherley's smile faded briefly.
"People talk."
"Yes," Relf said. "They do."
The door closed.
Eleanor waited until they were beyond the study windows.
"He knew about the frame."
"Yes."
"And he denied the appointment."
"He denied that B.H. meant him."
"You think it does."
"I think we need to check."
She glanced back at the house.
"There was a photograph in the hall. Hatherley at university, with a group of men. One had a handbell."
"Did you recognise anyone?"
"No."
"Any writing on it?"
"Not that I could see."
"We'll follow it up."
"He seemed surprised when you asked about ringing."
"He did."
"Yet he knew about the bell frame."
Relf unlocked the car.
"That's something I'd like explained."
A curtain moved upstairs. Eleanor looked up, but could not see anyone behind it.
Relf sat in the driver's seat and reopened his notebook.
"What now?"
"He's wearing a wedding ring."
"Perhaps his wife's away."
"I'll find out."
Hatherley had married twice. His first wife had died in Hong Kong in 1985. His second wife, Claire, was staying with her sister in Boulogne-sur-Mer.
It took Relf most of the afternoon to establish that, and another two hours to learn when she was returning.
He telephoned Eleanor at Marsh View House.
"Tomorrow. She's booked on the two o'clock sailing from Calais."
"Have you spoken to her?"
"Not yet."
"Why wait?"
"I'd like to hear her account before she discusses ours with her husband."
"You're going to Dover?"
"Yes."
Eleanor looked at the papers spread across the lounge table.
"What time should I be ready?"
Claire Hatherley refused tea.
She sat forward in her chair in a small room near the terminal, her handbag on her knees. Relf had explained who they were and asked about Bull.
"Bernard told you he hadn't seen Adrian?"
"Yes."
"Idiot."
"When did he see him?"
"Monday."
"How do you know?"
"I spoke to Bernard that evening. He said Adrian had been in touch about the bells and that he'd seen him."
Relf wrote down her words.
"Did he say where?"
"No."
"What did Bull want?"
"Help, I suppose. Bernard has always been interested in bells."
Relf looked up.
"Always?"
"Since university."
"Did he ring?"
"For years."
"Where?"
"Cambridge. Then Hong Kong."
Eleanor left her notebook open on her lap.
"Did he ring regularly in Hong Kong?" she asked.
"When we first married, certainly. I used to complain about how much time it took."
"When did he stop?" Relf asked.
"After the accident."
"The car accident in 1986?"
"Yes. His leg was badly damaged."
"Was he unable to ring afterwards?"
"Not as he had before."
"Did he ever return to it?"
"No."
Relf waited.
Claire moved her handbag.
"Well, occasionally, after we came back to England. If he heard bells, he'd go and find the tower. Sometimes they'd let him join them."
"Locally?"
"I assume so. I didn't go with him."
"Recently?"
"Not for years."
Relf set down his pen.
"Mrs Hatherley, your husband told us he had never rung church bells."
She stared at him.
"Never?"
"That was his answer."
"Are you sure he understood?"
"I asked him more than once."
Claire looked down at her handbag. She pressed the clasp shut, although it was already closed.
"I don't understand why he'd say that."
Eleanor waited for Relf's next question. He was watching Claire, giving her time to think.
She offered no explanation.