For the best part of an hour and a half, the two men sat opposite each other in a small,

dimly lit room.

They smoked, made small talk, did the crossword, and occasionally, as bouts of boredom took him,

Johnny had a little snooze, as Albert kept him

fed and watered with a steady supply of tea and toast.

Earlier in the afternoon of Monday the 28th of February, 1949, 39-year-old John George

Hague, a respected director of an engineering firm, who was Johnny

to his pals and Sonny to his beloved parents, had once again volunteered his time to assist

the police following the disappearance of his good friend, co-tenant, and prospective business

partner Mrs. Henrietta Durand Deakin, who he had reported missing.

Interview Room 3 of Chelsea Police Station was barely big enough for two men, let alone four.

So being just 8 foot square, with no windows, a small table, and only one door,

as Chief Superintendent Thomas Barrett and divisional Detective Inspector Shelley Symes had stepped away.

Detective Inspector Albert Webb and Johnny Haig passed the time, waiting their return.

Johnny was an unassuming little fellow, 5 foot eight and ten stoner to push, with a

weedy little body that a stiff breeze could easily blow over. Raised well, he was polite, calm and respectful.

As a dapper middle-class gent, he was fastidiously neat with shiny black shoes, the start shirt, and a smart brown suit,

topped off with a red tie and socks as a bold flourish of colour.

And although Johnny was just a few weeks away from his 40th birthday, he looked almost boyish,

being blessed with a little round face, dimples in his cheeks, a side parting, and a feeble

little moustache, who spoke well and never swore, but always at a slightly feminine

pitch, as if his voice had never broken.

...