Alleyn turned to the packing-case. It was five feet square and well made. One side was hinged and fastened with a bolt. It was not locked. He pulled on his gloves and, touching it very delicately, drew the bolt. The door opened smoothly. Inside the case, on a wheeled platform, was an irregularly shaped object that seemed to be swathed in cloths. Alleyn touched it. The cloths were still damp. ‘Comedy and Tragedy,’ he murmured. He began to go over the floor. McCully’s and his own wet prints were clear enough, but as far as he could see, with the exception of the area round the table, the wooden boards held no other evidence. He turned his torch on the border where the floor met the wall. There he found a thick deposit of dust down the entire length of the room. In a corner there was a large soft broom. Alleyn looked at this closely, shook the dust from the bristles on to a sheet of paper and then emptied it into an envelope. He returned to the area of floor round the table and inspected every inch of it. He did not disturb the pieces of broken china there, nor the wooden tools, but he found at last one or two strands of darkbrown hair and these he put in an envelope. Then he looked again at the head of the dead man.

Voices sounded, the doors rattled open. Outside in the pouring rain was a police car and a mortuary van. Fox and Bailey stood in the doorway with McCully. Alleyn walked quickly towards them.

‘Hullo, Fox.’

‘Hullo, sir. What’s up?’

‘Come in. Is Curtis there?’

‘Yes. Ready, doctor?’

Dr Curtis, Alleyn’s divisional surgeon, dived out of the car into shelter.

‘What the devil have you found, Alleyn?’

‘Garcia,’ said Alleyn.

‘Here!’ ejaculated Fox.

‘Dead?’ asked Curtis.

‘Very.’ Alleyn laid his hand on Fox’s arm. ‘Wait a moment. McCully, you can sit in the police car if you like. We shan’t be long.’

McCully, who still looked very shaken, got into the car. A constable and the man off the local beat joined the group in the doorway.

‘I think,’ said Alleyn, ‘that before you see the body I had better warn you that it is not a pleasant sight.’

‘Us?’ asked Fox, surprised. ‘Warn us?’

‘Yes, I know. We’re pretty well seasoned, aren’t we? I’ve never seen anything quite so beastly as this—not even in Flanders. I think he’s taken nitric acid.’

‘Good God!’ said Curtis.

‘Come along,’ said Alleyn.

He led them to the far end of the room, where the man at the table still sat with a coloured handkerchief over his face. Fox, Bailey and Curtis stood and looked at the body.

‘What’s the stench?’ asked Fox. ‘It’s bad, isn’t it?’

‘Nitric acid?’ suggested Bailey.

‘And other vomited matter,’ said Curtis.