Alleyn gave it to him. It was an irregular jagged piece of rock about the size of a pineapple. Dr Maine turned it in his hands and stooped over the head. ‘Fits,’ he said.

‘What’s the verdict then, Doctor?’ Coombe asked.

‘There’ll have to be a PM. of course. On the face of it: stunned and drowned.’ He looked at Alleyn. ‘Or, as you would say: “asphyxia following cranial injury”.’

‘I was attempting to fox the hotel porter.’

‘I see. Good idea.’

‘And when would it have taken place?’ Coombe insisted.

‘Again, you’ll have to wait before you get a definite answer to that one. Not less than an hour ago, I’d have thought. Possibly much longer.’

He stood up and wiped his hands on his handkerchief.

‘Do you know,’ he said, ‘I saw her. I saw her: it must have been about seven o’clock. Outside the church with Mrs Carstairs. She was going in to early service. I’d got a confinement on the Island and was walking down to the foreshore. Good lord!’ said Dr Maine. ‘I saw her.’

‘That’s a help, Doctor,’ said Coombe. ‘We were wondering about church. Now, that means she couldn’t have got over here until eight at the earliest, wouldn’t you say?’

‘I should say so. Certainly. Rather later if anything.’

‘And Mr Alleyn found her at nine. I suppose you didn’t notice anyone about the cottages or anything of the sort, Doctor?’

‘Not a soul. It was pouring heavens-hard. Wait a moment though.’

‘Yes?’

He turned to Alleyn. ‘I’ve got my own launch and jetty, and there’s another jetty straight opposite on the foreshore by the cottages. I took the launch across. Well, the baby being duly delivered, I returned by the same means and I do remember that when I’d started up the engine and cast off, I saw that fantastic kid – Wally Trehern – dodging about on the road up to the Spring.’

‘Did you watch him?’ Coombe asked.

‘Good lord, no. I turned the launch and had my back to the Island.’

‘When would that be, now, Doctor?’

‘The child was born at 7.30. Soon after that.’

‘Yes. Well. Thanks,’ said Coombe, glancing rather self-consciously at Alleyn. ‘Now: any ideas about how it happened?’

‘On what’s before us, I’d say that if this bit of rock is the instrument, it struck the head from above. Wait a minute.’

He climbed to the higher level above the shelf and Coombe followed him.

Alleyn was keeping a tight rein on himself. It was Coombe’s case and Alleyn was a sort of accident on the scene. He thought of Patrick Ferrier’s ironical remark: ‘Matter of protocol’ and silently watched the two men as they scrambled up through bracken to the top level.

Dr Maine said: ‘There are rocks lying about up here. And yes – But this is your pigeon, Coombe. You’d better take a look.’