Back in Alleyn’s room, Fabian lit a cigarette at a candle, and gave his guest one of his sidelong glances. ‘Any good,’ he asked, ‘or rotten?’

‘The discussion?’

‘Yes. Post-mortem. Inquest. Was it hopelessly stupid to do it?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Tomorrow, I suppose, you’ll talk to the Johns family and the men and so on.’

‘If I may.’

‘We’re crutching. You’ll be able to see the set-up. It’s pretty much the same. All except—’

‘Yes?’ asked Alleyn, as he paused.

‘The press is new. I couldn’t stomach that. It’s the same kind, though.’

‘I’ll just turn up there if I may.’

‘Yes. OK. I don’t know if you’re going to keep our unearthly hours. Please don’t, if you’d rather not. Breakfast at a quarter to six.’

‘Of course.’

‘Then I’ll take you over to the shed. You’ll ask me for anything you want?’

‘I just want a free hand to fossick. I’d be grateful if I could be disregarded.’

‘Not very easy, I’m afraid. But of course you’ll have a free hand. I’ve told the men and Ducky and everybody that you’ll be talking to them.’

‘How did they like that?’

‘Quite keen. It’s given a fillip to the ever-popular murder story. Damned ghouls! There’ll be one or two snags, though. Wilson, the wool-sorter, and Jack Merrywether, the presser, are not at all keen. Your friend Sub-Inspector Jackson got badly offside with both of them. And there’s Tommy Johns.’

‘The boy’s father?’

‘Yes. He’s a difficult chap, Tommy. I get on with him all right. He thinks for himself, does Tommy, and what’s more,’ said Fabian, with a grin, ‘he thinks much like me politically, so I consider him a grand guy. But he’s difficult. He resented Flossie’s handling of young Cliff and small blame to him. And what he thinks of police methods! You won’t find him precisely come-to-ish.’

‘And the boy himself?’

‘He’s all right, really. He’s a likely lad, and he thinks for himself, too. We’re good friends, young Cliff and I. I lend him the New Statesman and he rebuilds the government, social customs and moral standards of mankind on a strictly noneconomic basis two or three times a week. His music is really good, I believe, though I’m afraid it’s not getting much of a run these days. I’ve tried to induce him to practise on the Bechstein over here, but he’s an obstinate young dog and won’t.’

‘Why?’

‘It was Flossie’s.’

‘So the quarrel went deep?’