‘I want to know what’s happened to him. I want to know if he’s been hurt.’

‘He’s been hit over the head,’ said Alleyn, ‘with the branding iron.’

Cliff cried out incoherently and his father put his hand on his shoulder.

‘I don’t want to say so when he’s conscious again,’ Alleyn went on. ‘Remember that please, it’s important. He’s had a nasty shock and for the moment he’s to be left to his own interpretation on it. Tell nobody.’

‘The branding iron,’ said Tommy Johns. ‘Is that so?’ He looked across to the corner where the iron was usually kept. Cliff said quickly, ‘it wasn’t there. It was left over by the press.’

‘Where is it now?’ Johns demanded.

‘Safely stowed,’ said Alleyn.

‘Who done it?’ In reply to this classic, Alleyn merely shook his head.

‘I checked up on the men, sir,’ said Markins. ‘They’re all in their bunks. Ben Wilson was awake and says nobody’s gone or come in for over an hour. Albie’s dead to the world. Soaked.’

‘Right. Have you got a stretcher?’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Markins. ‘It’s the one Mrs R had for her first-aid classes.’

‘Have you been down to the house?’ Alleyn asked sharply.

‘No. It was stowed away up above. Come on, Tommy.’

They had dumped a pile of grey blankets inside the door. Markins brought in the stretcher. The three men covered it, moved Fabian on to it, and laid the remaining blankets over him. Cliff, working the palms of his hands together, looked on unhappily.

‘What about this damned icy track,’ Alleyn muttered. ‘You’ve got nails in your boots, Johns. So’s the boy. Markins and I are smooth-soled.’

‘It’s not so bad on the track, sir,’ said Markins.

‘Did you come up the kitchen path?’ Tommy Johns demanded.

‘Ready?’ asked Alleyn before Markins could reply.

They took their places at the corners of the stretcher. Fabian opened his eyes and looked at Cliff.

‘Hallo,’ he said clearly. ‘The Infant Phenomenon.’

‘That’s me,’ said Cliff unevenly. ‘You’ll be all right, Mr Losse.’

‘Oh Lord,’ Fabian whispered, ‘have I been at it again?’

‘You’ve taken a bit of a toss,’ said Alleyn. ‘We’ll get you into bed in a minute.’

‘My head.’

‘I know. Nasty crack you got. Ready?’

‘I can walk,’ Fabian protested. ‘What’s all this nonsense? I’ve always walked before.’

‘You’re riding this time, damn your eyes,’ said Alleyn cheerfully. ‘Up we go, chaps. Keep on the grass if you can.’

‘Easier going on the track,’ Tommy Johns protested.

‘Nevertheless, we’ll try the grass. On the left. Keep to the left.’