The couple passed the Lord’s Day in a comparatively leisurely fashion. Piccolo had the house to herself for some hours and laboured joyfully in the solitude of her writing. Simmonds went to play darts at The King’s Head where he competed in a monthly league partnered by Sergeant McPherson — they weren’t particularly good, but it was convivial; they never discussed work on such occasions. All was right with the world as if murder and blackmail and goodness knows what other nefarious activities didn’t exist. This was England on a typical Sunday in the late 1920’s.