‘But not very often. There are times when such things as statistical returns and probability tables have their uses in this work – or didn’t they teach you that at the staff college? What have Missing Persons got to offer?’

‘Nothing yet,’ Miller said. ‘There’s time of course. She looks old enough to have been out all night. Someone could conceivably wait for a day or two before reporting her missing.’

‘But you don’t think so?’

‘Do you?’

Grant looked at the form again and shook his head. ‘No, I’d say anything we’re going to find out about this one, we’ll have to dig up for ourselves.’

‘Can I have it?’

Grant nodded. ‘Autopsy isn’t mandatory in these cases but I think I’ll ask the County Coroner to authorize one. You never know what might turn up.’

He reached for the ’phone and Miller went back into the main C.I.D. room and sat down at his desk. There was an hour to fill before his brief court appearance – a good opportunity to get rid of some of the paperwork in his In-tray.

For some reason he found it impossible to concentrate. He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes, and her face rose out of the darkness to meet him, still that faint look of surprise in the eyes, the lips slightly parted. It was as if she was about to speak, to tell him something but that was impossible.

God, but he was tired. He settled back in his chair and cat-napped, awaking at exactly five minutes to ten feeling curiously refreshed, but when he went downstairs and crossed the square to the county court building, it wasn’t the Macek case he was thinking about.

The City Mortuary was at the back of the Medical School, a large, ugly building in Victorian Gothic with stained glass windows by the entrance. Inside, it was dark and cool with green tiled walls and a strange aseptic smell that was vaguely unpleasant.

Jack Palmer, the Senior Technician, was sitting at his desk in the small glass office at the end of the corridor. He turned and grinned as Miller paused in the doorway.

‘Don’t tell me – let me guess.’

‘Anything for me?’ Miller asked.

‘Old Murray’s handled it himself. Hasn’t had time to make out his report yet, but he’ll be able to tell you what you need to know. He’s cleaning up now.’

Miller peered through the glass wall into the white tiled hall outside the theatre and saw the tall, spare form of the University Professor of Pathology emerge from the theatre, the front of his white gown stained with blood.

‘Can I go in?’

Palmer nodded. ‘Help yourself.’