‘Us’ll leave side-door open,’ said Abel. ‘No need fur key, sir. Be no criminals in this neighbourhood. Leastways—’ He stopped short and looked pointedly at Legge.

‘That’s splendid,’ said Alleyn. ‘How far is it to Colonel Brammington’s?’

‘‘Bout eight mile, sir. Shankley Court. A great masterpiece of a place, sir, with iron gates and a deer-park. Carry on four miles beyond Illington and turn left at The Man of Devon.’

‘Right,’ said Alleyn. ‘We needn’t leave for half an hour.’

Cubitt went out.

Alleyn fidgeted with a piece of rag round his left hand. It was clumsily tied and fell away, disclosing a trail of red.

He twitched the handkerchief out of his breast pocket, glanced at it and swore. There was a bright red spot on the handkerchief.

‘Blast that cut,’ said Alleyn. ‘Now I’ll have to get a clean one.’

‘Hurt yurrself, sir?’ asked Abel.

‘Tore my hand on a rusty nail in the garage.’

‘In the garage!’ ejaculated Mr Nark. ‘That’s a powerful dangerous place to get a cut finger. Germs galore, I dessay, and as like as not some of the poison fumes still floating about.’

‘Aye,’ said Abel angrily, ‘that’s right, George Nark. All my premises is stiff with poison. Wonder ‘tis you come anigh ‘em. Here, Mr Alleyn, sir, I’ll get ‘ee a dressing fur that thurr cut.’

‘If I could have a bit of rag and a dab of peroxide or something.’

‘Doan’t you have anything out of that fatal cupboard,’ said Mr Nark. ‘Not if you value the purity of your bloodstream.’

‘You know as well as I do,’ said Abel, ‘that thur cupboard’s been scrubbed and fumigated. Not that thurr’s anything in it. Thurr baint. Nicholas Harper made off with my first-aid set, innocent though it wurr.’

‘And the iodine bottle,’ pointed out Mr Nark, ‘so you can’t give the inspector iodine, lethal or otherwise.’

‘Thurr’s another first-aid box upstairs,’ said Abel. ‘In bathroom cupboard. Will!’ He looked into the public bar. ‘Will! Get ‘tother box out of bathroom cupboard, my sonny. Look lively.’

‘It doesn’t matter, Mr Pomeroy,’ said Alleyn. ‘Don’t bother. I’ll use this handkerchief.’

‘No trouble, sir, and you’ll need a bit of antiseptic in that cut if you took it off of a rusty nail. I’m a terror fur iodine, sir. I wurr a surgeon’s orderly in France, Mr Alleyn, and learned hospital ways. Scientific ideas baint George Nark’s private property though you might think they wurr.’

Will Pomeroy came downstairs and into the private tap. He put a small first-aid box on the counter and returned to the public bar. Abel opened the box.

‘‘Tis spandy-new,’ he said. ‘I bought it from a traveller only couple of days afore accident. Hallo! Yurr, Will!’

‘What’s up?’ called Will.

‘Iodine bottle’s gone.’

‘Eh?’

‘Where’s iodine?’

‘I dunno. It’s not there,’ shouted Will.