‘It’s easy enough,’ Will said, ‘to make the truth look silly. A man never seems more foolish-like than he does when he’s speaking his whole mind and heart. I know that.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Alleyn, ‘that’s quite true. I dare say the apostles were as embarrassing in their day, as the street-orator with no audience is in ours.’

‘I don’t know anything about that. They were only setting up a superstition. I’m dealing with the sober truth.’

‘That’s what I hope to do myself,’ said Alleyn. ‘Shall we join the rats?’

Will led Alleyn across the yard to the old stables. A small evening breeze came in from the sea, lifting Alleyn’s hair and striking chill through his tweed coat. Gulls circled overhead. The sound of men’s voices drifted up from the waterfront.

‘It’ll be dark in-along,’ said Will.

‘I’ve got a torch.’

‘The rat-hole’s not in the proper garage, like. It’s in one of the old loose-boxes. It’s locked and we haven’t got the key. Harper’s men did that.’

‘Mr Harper gave me the key,’ said Alleyn.

The old loose-box doors had been padlocked, and sealed with police tape. Alleyn broke the tape and unlocked them.

‘I wonder,’ he said, ‘if you’d minding asking Mr Fox to join me. He’s got a second torch. Ask him to bring my case.’

‘Yes,’ said Will, and after a fractional pause, ‘sir.’

Alleyn went into the stable. It had been used as an extra garage but there was no car in it now. Above the faint reek of petrol oozed another more disagreeable smell, sweetish and nauseating. The cyanide, thought Alleyn, had evidently despatched at least one rat. The place was separated from the garage-proper, an old coach-house, by a semi-partition; but the space between the top of the partition and the roof had recently been boarded up, and Alleyn awarded Harper a good mark for attention to detail. Harper, he knew had also taken photographs of the rat-hole and tested the surrounding walls and floors for prints. He had found dozens of these.

Alleyn flashed his torch round the bottom of the walls and discovered the rat-hole. He stooped down. Harper had removed the rag and jar, tested them for prints, and found Abel’s. He had then drained off the contents of the jar and replaced it. There was the original rag stuffed tight in the hole. Alleyn pulled it out and the smell of dead rat became very strong indeed. The ray of light glinted on a small jar. It was less than an inch in diameter and about half an inch deep.

Fox loomed up in the doorway. He said:

‘Thank you, Mr Pomeroy, I’ll find my way in.’

Will Pomeroy’s boots retreated across the cobble-stones.

‘Look here, Br’er Fox,’ said Alleyn.

A second circle of light flickered on the little vessel. Fox peered over Alleyn’s shoulder.