‘Blue gum,’ he said. ‘This will be the Australian, I suppose. Funny. He must have collected that leaf sketching in the bush, half the world away. I know this youth. He joined our ship with Miss Troy at Suva. Travelled second at her expense.’

‘Fancy that,’ said Fox placidly. ‘Then you know this Miss Troy, sir?’

‘Yes. Now you see, even he appears to have put his hand down on his palette. He’d hardly do that in normal moments.’

‘We’ve finished, sir,’ said the photographic expert.

‘Right.’

Alleyn went over to the throne. The body lay as it was when he first saw it. He looked at it thoughtfully, remembering what Troy had said: ‘I’m always frightened of dead people.’

‘She was very lovely,’ said Alleyn gently. He covered the body again. ‘Carry her over to that couch. It’s a divan-bed, I fancy. She can be taken away now. You’ll do the post-mortem tomorrow, I suppose, Dr Ampthill?’

‘First thing,’ said the doctor briskly. ‘The mortuary car is outside in the lane now. This studio is built into the brick wall that divides the garden from the lane. I thought it would save a lot of trouble and difficulty if we opened that window, backed the car up to it, and lifted the stretcher through.’

‘Over there?’

Alleyn walked over to the window in the south wall. He stooped and inspected the floor.

‘This is where the modelling fellow, Garcia, did his stuff. Bits of clay all over the place. His work must have stood on the tall stool here, well in the light. Wait a moment.’

He flashed his pocket-torch along the sill. It was scored by several cross-scratches.

‘Someone else has had your idea, Dr Ampthill,’ said Alleyn. He pulled a pair of gloves from his overcoat pocket, put them on, and opened the window. The light from the studio shone on the whole body of a mortuary van drawn up in the lane outside. The air smelt cold and dank. Alleyn shone his torch on the ground under the window-sill. He could see clearly the print of car tyres in the soft ground under the window.

‘Look here, Mr Blackman.’

Blackman joined him.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Someone’s backed a car across the lane under the window. Miss Troy says the carrier must have called for this Mr Garcia’s stuff on Saturday morning. The maids say nobody came to the house about it. Well now, suppose Garcia left instructions for them to come straight to this window? Eh? How about that? He’d help them put the stuff through the window on to the van and then push off himself to wherever he was going.’

‘On his walking tour,’ finished Alleyn. ‘You’re probably right. Look here, if you don’t mind, I think we’ll take the stretcher out through the door and along the path. Perhaps there’s a door in the wall somewhere. Is there?’