“The contents of the pockets is in here, sir,” he murmured to Luke, indicating a second, unopened parcel.
“We shan’t want that.” Avril brushed him aside and concentrated on the garment. “It’s what we used to call ‘loud,’ ” he observed. “The tweed is loud. That’s what Meg recognised, do you see? She sees a great deal of material in her work. She’d forgotten this, but the pattern stuck in her mind and was associated with the boy. Do you see that?”
He pointed to the place where the tailor’s tab had been carefully unpicked on the inside of the breast pocket.
“How extraordinary! Now who in the world would have thought of doing that?”
“Quite a number of our clients, sir. You’d be surprised.” Luke was grinning. “It’s the patches you recognised, though, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.” The Canon turned the
