‘There!’ he said, ‘if you’re innocent you’re safe. As for this other mess you’ve got yourself into, stick to the truth and we’ll do what we can for you. Tell your mama the house is rid of us for the time being. Now, march!’

He turned Donald round, shoved him through the door, and slammed it behind him.

‘Come on, Fox,’ he said. ‘Pack up those things—the will and the notes. Ring up the Yard and see if the postmortem report is through, tell them to look Withers up in the record, and if one of my men is free, send him straight off to Shackleton House, Leatherhead. He’d better take a search-warrant, but he’s not to use it without ringing me up first. If the place is locked up he’s to stay there and report to me by telephone. Tell him we want evidence of a gambling hell. Fix that while I see the men outside and then we’ll be off.’

‘To see Withers?’

‘Yes. To see Captain Maurice Withers who, unless I’m much mistaken, has added a gambling hell to his list of iniquitous sources of livelihood. My God, Fox, as someone was out for blood, why the hell couldn’t they widen their field to include Captain Maurice Withers? Come on.’

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Captain Withers at Home

THE REPORT on the post-mortem was ready. Fox took it down over the telephone and he and Alleyn discussed it on their way to Sling Street.

‘Dr Curtis,’ said Fox, ‘says there’s no doubt that he was suffocated. They’ve found’—and here Fox consulted his book—‘Tardieu’s ecchymosis on the congested lungs and on the heart. There were signs of fatty degeneration in the heart. The blood was dark-coloured and very liquid—’

‘All right,’ said Alleyn violently. ‘Never mind that. Sorry, Fox. On you go.’

‘Well, sir, they seem to think that the condition of the heart would make everything much more rapid. That’s what you might call a merciful thing, isn’t it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Yes. Barring the scar on the temple, Dr Curtis says there are no marks on the face. The mucous membrane in the forepart of the palate is slightly congested. Posteriorly it is rather bleached. But there are no marks of violence.’

‘I noticed that. There was no struggle. He was unconscious after the blow on the temple,’ said Alleyn.

‘That’s what Dr Curtis thinks.’

‘This murderer knew what he was about,’ said Alleyn. ‘Usually your asphyxiating homicide merchant goes in for a lot of unnecessary violence. You get marks round the mouth. Has Curtis any idea what was used?’

‘He says possibly a plug of soft material introduced into the mouth and held over the nostrils.’

‘Yes. Not Bunchy’s handkerchief. That was quite uncreased.’

‘Perhaps his own handkerchief.’

‘I don’t think so, Fox. I found a trace of fine black woollen fluff in the mouth.’

‘The cloak?’

‘Looks like it. It might be. One of the reasons why the cloak was got out of the way. By the way, Fox, did you get a report from that PC in Belgrave Square last night?’