There was a movement inside the island of yellow light. The heap of bales shifted.

‘Hurry! Hurry!’ An arm was flung up. ‘All right when I’m up. Sleep,’ said the voice, dragging on the word. ‘To die. To sleep. Go on, blast you. Up. Oh, dear. Oh, God,’ it whispered very drearily. ‘So bloody tired.’

Alleyn began to move quietly towards Fabian.

‘You would butt in,’ Fabian chuckled. ‘You won’t be popular.’ Alleyn stopped. ‘Funny old thing,’ said Fabian affectionately. ‘Must have found the damned object. Hallo,’ he added a moment later and then with disgust and astonishment, ‘Terry! Oh, Lord! I do wish I hadn’t got up here. Silly old man.’

He sat up. Alleyn moved quickly to him and knelt down.

‘It’s all right,’ he said, ‘you can go to sleep now, you know.’

‘Yes, but why run like that? Something must have happened up there.’

‘Up where?’

‘Well, you heard what she said. You will be unpopular. Where was it?’

‘In the lavender walk,’ Alleyn said. Fabian’s eyes were open, staring past Alleyn under scowling brows.

‘Who found it?’

‘Uncle Arthur.’

‘Well, you must be pretty fit. I couldn’t…I’m so hellish tired. I swear I’ll drop off into the sea. It’s that damned piano. If only he’d shut up. Excelsibloodyor! Up!’

He fought Alleyn off, his eyes on the wall with its cross beams. ‘Come on, chaps,’ he said. ‘It’s easy. I’ll give you a lead.’

Alleyn tried to quieten him, but he became so frenzied that to hold him Alleyn himself would have been obliged to use violence, and indeed, stood in some danger of being knocked out.

‘I’m trying to help you, you goat,’ Alleyn grumbled. ‘Think I don’t know a Jerry when I get one,’ Fabian panted. ‘Not yet, Fritzy darling. I’m for Home.’ He lashed out, caught Alleyn on the jaw, flung himself forward and, clawing at the beams on the wall, tried to climb it. Alleyn wrapped his arms round his knees. Without warning, Fabian collapsed. They fell together on the floor, Fabian uppermost.

‘Thank God,’ Alleyn thought, ‘his head didn’t get another rap,’ and crawled out. Fabian lay still, breathing heavily. Alleyn, himself rather groggy, began to cover him up again.

‘Oh, Ursy, you celestial imbecile,’ Fabian said miserably and, after a moment, sighed deeply and, turning on his side, fell sound asleep.

‘If this is amnesia,’ Alleyn muttered, nursing his jaw, ‘yet, there’s method in it.’