‘We’ll have to get an expert’s opinion, Fox. Curtis’s boys can speak up when they’ve finished the job in hand. Pray continue, as the Immortal used to say, with your most interesting narrative.’

‘There’s not much more. I took a little peep at the young baronet’s room, too. Dunning letters, lawyer’s letters, letters from his stockbroker. I should say he was in deep. I’ve made a note of the principal creditors.’

‘For an officer without a search warrant you seem to have got on very comfortably.’

‘Isabel helped. She’s taken quite a fancy for investigation. She kept a lookout in the passage.’

‘With parlour-maids,’ Alleyn said, ‘you’re out on your own. A masterly technique.’

‘I called on Dr Withers yesterday afternoon and told him you’d decided on the exhumation.’

‘How did he take it?’

‘He didn’t say much but he went a queer colour. Well, naturally. They never like it. Reflection on their professional standing and so on. He thought a bit and then said he’d prefer to be present. I said we’d expect that, anyway. I was just going when he called me back. “Here!” he said, kind of hurriedly and as if he wasn’t sure he might not he making a fool of himself, “you don’t want to pay too much attention to anything that idiot Juniper may have told you. The man’s an ass.” As soon as I was out of the house,’ said Fox, ‘I made a note of that to be sure the words were correct. The maid was showing me out at the time.’

‘Curtis asked him last night, after we’d tidied up in the cemetery, if he’d like to come up and watch the analysis. He agreed. He’s sticking to it that the embalmers must have used something that caused the hair to fall out. Mr Mortimer was touched to the professional quick, of course.’

‘It’s a line defending counsel may fancy,’ said Fox gloomily. The telephone rang and Fox answered it.

‘It’s Mr Mortimer,’ he said.

‘Oh, Lord! You take it, Fox.’

‘He’s engaged at the moment, Mr Mortimer. Can I help you?’

The telephone cackled lengthily and Fox looked at Alleyn with bland astonishment. ‘Just a moment.’ He laid down the receiver. ‘I don’t follow this. Mr Alleyn hasn’t got a secretary.’

‘What’s all this?’ said Alleyn sharply.

Fox clapped his hand over the receiver. ‘He says your secretary rang up their office half an hour ago and asked them to repeat the formula for embalming. His partner, Mr Loame, answered. He wants to know if it was all right.’

‘Did Loame give the formula?’

‘Yes.’

‘Bloody fool,’ Alleyn said violently. ‘Tell him it’s all wrong and ring off.’

‘I’ll let Mr Alleyn know,’ said Fox, and hung up the receiver. Alleyn reached for it and pulled the telephone towards him.