‘Did you go to her room?’

‘I had every right when she refused. It was my property.’

‘I see. You tried to recover it while she was away. On Friday, perhaps, before you left?’

‘If you must know, yes.’

‘And you couldn’t find your book?’

‘No.’

‘Where was this book, Bailey?’

‘In a locked suitcase, sir, under deceased’s bed. Someone had tried to pick the lock.’

‘Was that you, Mr Malmsley?’

‘I was entirely justified.’

‘Was it you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why did you not tell Miss Troy what had happened?’

‘I—Troy might not look at it—Troy is rather British in such matters. She would confess with wonderful enthusiasm that her own work is rooted in the aesthetics of the primitives, but for someone who was courageous enough to use boldly such material from the past as seemed good to him, she would have nothing but abuse. Women—English women especially —are the most marvellous hypocrites.’

‘That will do,’ said Alleyn. ‘What was Sonia’s motive in taking this book?’

‘She simply wanted to be disagreeable and infuriating.’

‘Did you offer her anything if she returned it?’

‘She was preposterous,’ muttered Malmsley, ‘preposterous.’

‘How much did she ask?’

‘I do not admit that she asked anything.’

‘All right,’ said Alleyn. ‘It’s your mess. Stay in it if you want to.’

‘What am I to understand by that?’

‘Think it out. I believe I need not keep you any longer, Mr Malmsley. I am afraid I cannot return your book just yet. I shall need a specimen of your fingerprints. We can take them from the cigarette-box you picked up when you came in, or from objects in your room which I am afraid I shall have to examine. It would help matters if you allowed Sergeant Bailey to take an official specimen now.’

Malmsley consented to this with a very ill grace, and made a great fuss over the printer’s ink left on his thick white finger-tips.

‘I fail to see,’ he said, ‘why I should have been forced to go through this disgusting performance.’

‘Bailey will give you something to clean up the ink,’ said Alleyn. ‘Good evening, Mr Malmsley.’

‘One more job for you, Bailey, I’m afraid,’ said Alleyn, when Malmsley had gone. ‘We’ll have to look through these rooms before we let them go to bed. Are they still boxed up in the dining-room, Fox?’

‘They are that,’ said Fox, ‘and if that young Australian talks much more, I fancy we’ll have a second corpse on our hands.’

‘I’ll start off on Mr Malmsley’s room, will I, sir?’ asked Bailey.

‘Yes. Then tackle the other men’s. We’ll be there in a jiffy. I don’t expect to find much, but you never know in our game.’

‘Very good, Mr Alleyn,’ said Bailey. He went off with a resigned look.