Alleyn’s first impression was of a reek of paint and turpentine, and of a brilliant and localized glare. Troy had installed a highpowered lamp over the throne. This lamp was half shaded, so that it cast all its light on the throne, rather as the lamp above an operating-table is concentrated on the patient. Blackman had only turned on one switch, so the rest of the studio was in darkness. The effect at the moment could scarcely have been more theatrical. The blue drape, sprawled across the throne, was so brilliant that it hurt the eyes. The folds fell sharply from the cushion into a flattened mass. In the middle, stupidly irrelevant, was a spike. It cast a thin shadow irregularly across the folds of the drape. On the margin of this picture, disappearing abruptly into shadow, was a white mound.

‘The drapery and the knife haven’t been touched since the victim died,’ explained Blackman. ‘Of course, they disarranged the stuff a bit when they hauled her up.’

‘Of course,’ said Alleyn. He walked over to the throne and examined the blade of the knife. It was rather like an oversized packingneedle, sharp, three-edged, and greatly tapered towards the point. It was stained a rusty brown. At the base, where it pierced the drape, there was the same discoloration, and in one or two of the folds small puddles of blood had seeped through the material and dried. Alleyn glanced at Dr Ampthill.

‘I suppose there would be an effusion of blood when they pulled her off the knife?’

‘Oh yes, yes. The bleeding would probably continue until death. I understand that beyond lifting her away from the knife, they did not move her until she died. When I arrived the body was where it is now.’

He turned to the sheeted mound that lay half inside the circle of light.

‘Shall I?’

‘Yes, please,’ said Alleyn.

Dr Ampthill drew away the white sheet.

Troy had folded Sonia’s hands over her naked breast. The shadow cut sharply across the wrists so that the lower half of the torso was lost. The shoulders, hands and head were violently lit. The lips were parted rigidly, showing the teeth. The eyes were only half closed. The plucked brows were raised as if in astonishment.

‘Rigor mortis is well established,’ said the doctor. ‘She was apparently a healthy woman, and this place was well heated. The gas fire was not turned off until some time after she died. She has been dead eleven hours.’

‘Have you examined the wound, Dr Ampthill?’

‘Superficially. The knife-blade was not absolutely vertical, evidently. It passed between the fourth and fifth ribs, and no doubt pierced the heart.’

‘Let us have a look at the wound.’