“George,” he said. “ George, my dear man, what is the matter? You look ill.”

He turned away and when he faced George once more, he had replaced his teeth, but the ghost of the toothless face remained and George could not recognize him as quite the same person.

“How long have you been here?” George asked suddenly. “Have you been in here since you came upstairs?”

“Why do you want to know? Has something happened?”

“Yes, something’s happened. Have you been in your room since you came upstairs?”

“No. I had a shower and washed my hair. But I didn’t want to go to bed until it was dry, so I’ve been reading.”

“Did you see anyone else?”

“No.”

“Which bathroom did you use?”

“There’s a shower room next door. That’s why I like this room. It’s most convenient.”

“Thank you,” George said. “Thank you.” He shut the door, pretending not to hear the doctor’s questions, his gabbled demands for explanation.

The shower room next to Paul Derbyshire’s bedroom was the most southerly room in the corridor. George turned back. Martindale was in Pamela Marshall’s room with Nicholas Mardle. The door was open. Jerry Packham and Mark were sitting together in Mark’s room. They were talking quietly together. George walked down the stairs, through to the kitchen and back up to the Lansdowns’ flat. He banged on the door. Almost immediately Elizabeth answered. She was wearing a nightdress and a thick brown dressing gown with a hood, like a monk’s habit.

“Where have you been?” George asked. “ Have you been out?”

“No,” she said. She seemed bewildered, a little angry at the interruption. “I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t want to disturb John, so I’ve been listening to the radio in the living room. Why?” she asked. “Why? What has happened?”

“Has John been in bed all that time? Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she almost shouted. “I’m sure. Do you want to see him?”

But there was no need to call John. He emerged from the bedroom, naked and tousled, demanding to know what the noise was all about.

George stood on the doorstep and explained quickly and precisely that Pamela Marshall was dead, that Nicholas seemed to have confessed, that Martindale was talking to him.

“Nicholas!” Elizabeth said. “ Does that mean that he killed Charlie?”

George dismissed the question as if he didn’t have time to consider it properly. He looked at his watch. It was half past midnight.

“The police will be able to get over now,” he said. “I expect Savage will want to see everyone. But I don’t see why you shouldn’t stay here until then. Try to get some sleep.”

He went back to the landing. Martindale was in the corridor, with Nicholas beside him. He was shutting Pamela Marshall’s door. Paul Derbyshire had joined Jerry and Mark. George presumed that Jasmine Carson was still asleep. Martindale looked at Palmer-Jones with relief and a little reproach.

“There you are, sir,” he said. “I was wondering where you’d gone to. I was thinking I should telephone the superintendent. Could you keep an eye …”