His voice stopped as if someone had gagged him. He stood still. The place was filled with the sound of rain and with an appalling stench.

‘What’s the matter?’ asked Alleyn sharply.

There was no answer.

‘McCully! Don’t move.’

‘Who’s that!’ said McCully violently.

‘Where? Where are you?

‘Here—who—Christ!’

Alleyn strode swiftly down the room.

‘Stay where you are,’ he said.

‘There’s someone sitting at the table,’ McCully whispered.

Alleyn came up with him and caught him by the arm. McCully was trembling like a dog.

‘Look! Look there!’

In the shadow cast by the packing-case Alleyn saw the table. The man who sat at it leant across the top and stared at them. His chin seemed to be on the surface of the table. His arms were stretched so far that his hands reached the opposite edge. It was an uncouth posture, the attitude of a scarecrow. They could see the lighter disc that was his face and the faint glint of his eyeballs. Alleyn had a torch in his pocket. He groped for it with one hand and held McCully’s arm with the other. McCully swore endlessly in a whisper.

The sharp beam of light ran from the torch to the table. It ended in the man’s face. It was the face of a gargoyle. The eyeballs started from their sockets, the protruding tongue was sulphur yellow. The face was yellow and blue. McCully wrenched his arm from Alleyn’s grasp and flung it across his eyes.

Alleyn walked slowly towards the table. The area of light widened to take in an overturned cup and a bottle. There was a silence of a minute broken by McCully.

‘Oh, God!’ said McCully. ‘Oh, God, help me! Oh, God!’

‘Go back to your office,’ said Alleyn. ‘Telephone Scotland Yard. Give this address. Say the message is from Inspector Alleyn. Ask them to send Fox, Bailey, and the divisional surgeon. Here!’

He turned McCully round, marched him towards the door and propped him against the wall.

‘I’ll write it down.’ He took out his notebook, wrote rapidly and then looked at McCully. The large common face was sheet-white and the lips were trembling.

‘Can you pull yourself together?’ asked Alleyn. ‘Or had I better come with you? It would help if you could do it. I’m a CID officer. We’re looking for this man. Come now, can you help me?’

McCully drew the back of his hand across his mouth.

‘He’s dead,’ he said.

‘Bless my soul, of course he is. Will you take this message? I don’t want to bully you. I just want you to tell me if you can do it.’

‘Give us a moment, will you?’

‘Of course.’

Alleyn looked up and down the alley.

‘Wait here a minute,’ he said.