Coombe joined him.

‘There’s where it came from,’ said Maine, ‘behind the boulder. You can see where it was prised up.’

Coombe at last said, ‘We’d better keep off the area, Doctor.’ He looked down at Alleyn: ‘It’s clear enough.’

‘Any prints?’

‘A real mess. People from above must have swarmed all over it when the rain came. Pity.’

‘Yes,’ Alleyn said. ‘Pity.’

The other two men came down.

‘Well,’ Dr Maine said. ‘That’s that. The ambulance should be here by now. Glad you suggested it. We’ll have to get her across. How’s the tide?’ He went through the exit gates and along the footpath to a point from where he could see the causeway.

Alleyn said to Coombe: ‘I asked the porter to get on to Pender and say you’d want him. I hope that was in order.’

‘Thanks very much.’

‘I suppose you’ll need a statement from me, won’t you?’

Coombe scraped his jaw. ‘Sounds silly, doesn’t it?’ he said. ‘Well, yes, I suppose I will.’ He had been looking sideways at Alleyn, off and on, for some time.

‘Look,’ he said abruptly. ‘There’s one thing that’s pretty obvious about this affair, isn’t there? Here’s a case where a Yard man with a top reputation is first on the scene and you might say, starts up the investigation. Look at it what way you like, it’d be pretty silly if I just said: “thanks, chum” and let it go at that. Wouldn’t it now? I don’t mind admitting I felt it was silly, just now, with you standing by, tactful as you please and leaving it all to me.’

‘Absolute rot,’ Alleyn said. ‘Come off it.’

‘No, I mean it. And, anyway,’ Coombe added on a different note, ‘I haven’t got the staff.’ It was a familiar plaint.

‘My dear chap,’ Alleyn said, ‘I’m meant to be on what’s laughingly called a holiday. Take a statement for pity’s sake, and let me off. I’ll remove Miss Pride and leave you with a fair field. You’ll do well. “Coombe’s Big Case”.’ He knew, of course, that this would be no good.

‘You’ll remove Miss Pride, eh?’ said Coombe. ‘And what say Miss Pride’s the key figure, still? You know what I’m driving at. It’s sticking out a mile. Say I’m hiding up there behind that boulder. Say I hear someone directly below and take a look-see. Say I see the top of an open umbrella and a pair of female feet, which is what I’ve been waiting for. Who do I reckon’s under that umbrella? Not Miss Elspeth Cost. Not her. O, dear me no!’ said Coombe in a sort of gloomy triumph. ‘I say: “That’s the job,” and I bloody well let fly! But I bring down the wrong bird. I get –’