He plunged forward. Alleyn caught him by one arm. Fox by the other. He struggled violently. The AC pressed a bell on his desk, the door was opened from the outside and two plain-clothes men walked into the room. Beyond, in the brightly lit secretary’s room three startled faces, Bridget’s, Davidson’s and Miss Harris’s, peered over the shoulders of more Yard men, and through the doorway.

Dimitri, mouthing and panting, was taken over by the two officers.

‘Now then,’ they said. ‘Now then.’

‘Lady Carrados,’ said Alleyn, ‘will you formally charge this man?’

‘I do charge him.’

‘In a moment,’ said Alleyn to Dimitri, ‘you will be taken to the charge-room, but before we talk about the exact nature of the charge—’ He looked through the door: ‘Sir Daniel? I see you’re still there. May I trouble you again for a moment?’

Davidson, looking very startled, came through.

‘Good God, Alleyn!’ he said, staring at Dimitri. ‘What’s this?’

Alleyn said: ‘You can, I believe, give me the final piece of evidence in an extremely involved affair. You see this cigarette-case?’

Davidson took it.

‘My dear fellow,’ he said, ‘that’s the abortion. I told you about it. It’s part of the collection at Marsdon House. You remember?’

He moved to the light and after another startled glance at Dimitri, who had gone perfectly still and stared at him like a lost soul, Davidson put up his glasses and examined the case.

‘You know, I believe it is Benvenuto,’ he said, looking over his glasses at Alleyn.

‘Yes, yes, I dare say. Will you tell us where you saw it?’

‘Among a collection of objets d’art on a pie-crust table in an upstairs room at Marsdon House.’

‘At what time, Sir Daniel?’

‘My dear Alleyn, I told you. About eleven-thirty or so. Perhaps earlier.’

‘Would you swear you noticed it no later than eleven-thirty?’ insisted Alleyn.

‘But of course I would,’ said Davidson. ‘I did not return to that room. I am quite ready to swear it.’

He held the cigarette-case up in his beautifully shaped hand.

‘I swear I saw this case on the table in the green sitting-room not later than eleven-thirty. That do?’

The silence was broken only by Dimitri’s laboured breathing.

And then, surprisingly clear and firm, Mrs Halcut-Hackett’s voice:

‘But that can’t be true.’

Alleyn said: ‘Will you open the case?’

Davidson, who was gazing in amazement at Mrs Halcut-Hackett, opened the cigarette-case and saw the notice.

‘Will you read that press cutting?’ said Alleyn. ‘Aloud, please.’

The deep expressive voice read the absurd message.

‘“Childie Darling. Living in exile. Longing. Only want Daughter. Daddy.”’

‘What in the name of all wonders is this?’

‘We believe it to be a murderer’s message,’ said Alleyn. ‘We think this man, Dimitri, can translate it.’

Davidson shut the case with a snap.

Something had gone wrong with his hands. They shook so violently that the diamonds on the gold case seemed to have a separate flashing life of their own.