investigating officer as any concerned neighbour might. After all, he was Humboldt's closest friend.

Yet to Jake's mind another probability was presenting itself. Humboldt, on returning home from his visit to town yesterday, might have found himself robbed, his place pilfered and, in his angst, knocked over a lantern or, worse, suffered a stroke in the ensuing panic.

"Can a coroner establish if heart failure occurred prior to asphyxiation?" he found himself muttering half-absentmindedly.

Jake was hoping so. Gingerly, he fingered memories of what he would have done had Scot returned the night as intended. Still, if all held true, there was nothing to implicate him, even if Humboldt had died unexpectedly. Jake was in the process of reassuring himself. All had been taken care of. Scot dead and now the car a convenient shambles--the only possible source of clues or evidence. How tidy fate had been. Strange. If only he had managed to get the money prior to Scot inadvertently doing away with himself. He smiled, how lucky he had been. Especially now, that Humboldt, too, was dead of God knows what and he, he was no worse off for his pains. He still might locate a cache or two on the property when all this blew over.

The other side of Jake's personality was now exerting itself, the peasant cunning of folk long inured to the earth's rhythmic cycles. He knew of the officer's steady gaze and his ploy. The officer was playing it smart, letting Jake see all the possibilities when asking his opinion. First mention the near likelihood of a robbery but be vague on the question of accomplices. And, of course, the question of the necessary instigation. Jake was wondering if he were looking a little too detached from his friend's death. A little too sincere? Then there was the issue of a second coroner if the evidence seemed inconclusive. Wild fantasies swept through his now activated brain. Did he dare? Might he risk it? Would the officer be .. . well receptive to a little more ... er fact finding? And the best way to approach him? Hmmm.

Jake stared at the charred hulk of a bedpost. Humboldt's? The long deceased sister probably. He couldn't rightly tell but did recall Humboldt hadn't removed the bedding at the time of her death. Either way, he mused, he would have to let events take their course or steer them back his way at once. He pressed his manured boot over a darkened brick kicking it free.

"Am I free, uh, to go?" Jake asked the constable.

"Free to go, why, why shouldn't you be Mr. Wright?"

[30]