Alleyn said, ‘Please, Mr Parish! I’m sure all this business of questions that seem to have neither rhyme nor reason is tedious and exasperating to a degree. But you may be sure that we shall go as carefully as we go slowly. If there is any link between this man and your cousin I think I may promise you that we shall discover it.’

‘I suppose so,’ said Parish, not very readily. ‘I’m sorry if I’m unreasonable, but this thing has hit me pretty hard.’

‘Oh dear,’ thought Alleyn, ‘he will speak by the book!’ And aloud he said, ‘Of course it has. I’ve nearly done for the moment. There are one or two more points. I think you looked at the new darts before they were handed to Mr Legge.’

Parish froze at that. He stood there on the dappled hearthrug and stared at Alleyn. He looked like a frightened schoolboy.

‘I only picked them up and looked at them,’ he said. ‘Anyone will tell you that.’ And then with a sudden spurt of temper. ‘Damnation, you’ll be saying I killed my cousin next!’

‘I wasn’t going to say that,’ said Alleyn peacefully. ‘I was going to ask you to tell me who handled the darts before and after you did.’

Parish opened his mouth and shut it again. When he did speak it was with a kind of impotent fury.

‘If you’d said at first—you’ve got me all flustered.’

Cubitt said, ‘I think I can tell you that, Alleyn. Abel unpacked the darts and laid them on the counter. Parish simply picked two or perhaps three of them up and poised them. That’s right, isn’t, Seb?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Parish sullenly. ‘Have it your own way. I don’t know. Why should I remember?’

‘No reason in the world,’ said Alleyn cheerfully.

‘Well,’ said Cubitt, ‘Sebastian put them down and Will Pomeroy took them up. I remember that Will turned away and held them nearer the light. He said something about the way they were made with the weight in the brass point and not in a lead band. He said that the card flights were better than feathers. Abel fitted the darts with card flights.’ Cubitt hesitated and then added, ‘I don’t suppose it’s relevant but I’m prepared to say definitely that Parish did nothing more than pick them up and put them down.’

‘Thank you, Norman,’ said Parish. ‘Is that all, Mr Alleyn?’

‘My last question for the moment—did you see Miss Moore pour out the brandy for Mr Watchman?’

Dead silence. And then Parish, wrinkling his forehead, looking half-peevish, half-frightened, said, ‘I didn’t watch her, but you needn’t go probing into all that. Decima Moore had nothing to do with—’