‘Very well. Don’t exceed, now. You may tell them that there will be a further instalment tomorrow.’

‘Too kind,’ said Nigel haughtily.

‘And Bathgate—you might ring my mamma up and say we won’t be in until after midnight.’

‘All right.’

Nigel and Fox collided in the doorway with Bailey, who looked cold and disgruntled.

‘Hullo,’ said Alleyn. ‘Wait a moment, Fox. Let’s hear what Bailey’s been up to.’

‘I’ve been over deceased’s room,’ said Bailey.

‘Any good?’

‘Nothing much, sir. It’s an attic-room at the front of the house.’

He paused, and Alleyn waited, knowing that ‘nothing much’ from Bailey might mean anything from a vacuum to a phial of cyanide.

‘There’s deceased’s prints,’ continued Bailey, ‘and one that looks like this Garcia. It’s inside the door where the maid’s missed with the duster, and there’s another print close beside it that isn’t either of ‘em. Broad. Man’s print, I’d say. And of course there are the maid’s all over the show. I’ve checked those. Nothing much about the clothes. Note from Garcia in a pocket. She was in the family way all right. Here it is.’

He opened his case, and from a labelled envelope drew out of a piece of paper laid between two slips of glass.

‘I’ve printed it and taken a photo.’

Alleyn took the slips delicately in his fingers and laid them on the desk. The creases in the common paper had been smoothed out and the scribbled black pencil lines were easy to read:

Dear S.—What do you expect me to do about it? I’ve got two quid to last me till I get to Troy’s. You asked for it, anyway. Can’t you get somebody to fix things? It’s not exactly likely that I should want to be saddled with a wife and a kid, is it? I’ve got a commission for a big thing, and for God’s sake don’t throw me off my stride. I’m sorry but I can’t do anything. See you at Troy’s. Garcia

‘A charming fellow,’ said Alleyn.

‘That was in a jacket pocket. Here’s a letter that was just kicking about at the back of the wardrobe. From somebody called Bobbie. Seems as if this Bobbie’s a girl.’

This letter was written in an enormous hand on dreadful pink paper: