‘Please, Mr Pilgrim, let us get this tidied up. When did you actually give Miss Seacliff the aspirins?’

‘When she went to bed. I tell you I got them from my suitcase and took them downstairs and gave her three.’

‘Did she take them?’

‘Not then. We looked in after she was in bed and she said she could never swallow aspirins, and so I dissolved three in water and left the tumbler by her bedside.’

‘Did you see her drink this solution?’

‘No. I think I said, Inspector, that I left it at her bedside.’

‘Yes,’ said Alleyn, ‘I’ve got that. Where’s the bottle?’

‘What bottle? Oh, the aspirin. I don’t know. I suppose it’s in my room upstairs.’

‘After you left Miss Seacliff’s room on Friday night where did you go?’

‘I had a drink with Pascoe and went to bed.’

‘Did you get up at all during the night?’

‘No.’

‘You slept straight through the night?’

‘Like the dead,’ said Pilgrim. He was no longer restless. He looked steadily at Alleyn and he was extremely pale.

‘It is strange you should have slept so soundly. There was a very severe thunderstorm that night,’ lied Alleyn. ‘Lightning. Doors banging. Maids bustling about. Didn’t you hear it?’

‘As a matter of fact,’ said Pilgrim, after a pause, ‘it’s a funny thing, but I slept extraordinarily soundly that night. I’m always pretty good, but that night I seemed to be fathoms deep. I suppose I’d had a bit too much of Pascoe’s 1875 Courvoisier.’

‘I see. Now, Mr Pilgrim, I want you to look at this, if you please.’

He nodded to one of his men, who came forward with a brownpaper parcel. He opened it and took out a most disreputable garment.

‘Why,’ said Pilgrim, ‘that’s my old car coat.’

‘Yes.’

‘What on earth do you want with that, Mr Alleyn?’

‘I want you to tell me when you burnt this little hole in the cuff. There, do you see.’

‘I don’t know. How the devil should I know! I’ve had the thing for donkey’s years. It never comes out of the car. I’ve crawled under the car in it. It’s obviously a cigarette burn.’

‘It’s an acid burn.’

‘Acid? Rot! I mean, how could it be acid?’

‘That is what we would like you to tell us.’

‘Well, I’m afraid I can’t tell you. Considering the use the thing’s had, I suppose it might have come in contact with acid some time or another.’

‘This is a recent stain.’

‘Is it? Well then, it is. So what?’

‘Might it be nitric acid?’

‘Why?’

‘Do you do any etching, Mr Pilgrim?’

‘Yes. But not in my garage coat. Look here, Mr Alleyn—’

‘Will you feel in the pockets?’

Pilgrim thrust a hand into one of the pockets and pulled out a pair of gloves.