‘—and Inspector Alleyn knows the room. At first nobody touches Luke. His face is very white and he looks as if he’ll faint. I’m standing near his head. Legge’s still out in front of the dart-board. He’s saying something about being sorry. I’ve got it now. It’s strange, but thinking of it like this brings it back to me. You, Norman, and Decima, are by the bar. She’s sitting on the bar in the far corner. Will has taken a step out into the room and Abel’s leaning over the bar. Wait a moment. Miss Darragh is farther away near the ingle-nook, and is sitting down. Old George Nark, blind tight, is teetering about near Miss Darragh. That’s the picture.’

‘Go on, please,’ said Alleyn.

‘Well, the lights waver. Sometimes it’s almost dark, and then the figures all show up again. Or—’ Parish looked at Cubitt.

‘No,’ said Cubitt. ‘That wasn’t the brandy, Seb. You’re quite right.’

‘Well, I can’t go any further,’ said Parish petulantly. ‘The rest’s still a filthy nightmare. Can you sort it out?’

‘Please do, if you can, Mr Cubitt,’ said Alleyn.

Cubitt was filling his pipe. His fingers, blunt-ended, were stained as usual with oil paint.

‘It’s as everybody described it at the inquest,’ he said. ‘I think Seb and I both had the same idea, that Watchman was simply upset at the sight of his own blood. It’s true about the lights. The room seemed to—to sort of pulse with shadows. I remember Luke’s right hand. It groped about his chest as if he felt for a handkerchief or something. Legge said something like “My God! I’m sorry. Is it bad?” Something like that. And then Legge said something more. “Look at his face! My God, it’s not lockjaw, is it?” And you, Seb, said, “Not it,” and trotted out the old story about Luke’s sensibilities.’

‘How was I to know? You make it sound—’

‘Of course you weren’t to know. I agreed with you, but Legge was very upset and, at the mention of lockjaw, Abel went to the cupboard and got out the iodine and a bandage. Miss Darragh came to life and took the bandage from Abel. Abel dabbed iodine on the finger and Luke sort of shuddered like you do with the sting of the stuff. Miss Darragh said something about brandy. Decima Moore took the bottle off the bar and poured some into Luke’s glass. His glass was on the table.’

‘The table by the dart-board close to Mr Parish?’

Cubitt looked up from his pipe.