An expression of real distaste crossed the Indian’s face. ‘For my sins. A particularly repellent specimen of present-day youth.’

‘He had a girlfriend called Grace Packard. Ever meet her?’

Das shook his head. ‘I notice you use the past tense.’

‘She was murdered last night. Naturally Harold was called upon to explain his movements, especially as he’d had some sort of row with her earlier in the evening. His story is that he was home by nine-thirty. He says that his mother was in bed and that he took her a cup of tea and went himself.’

‘So his mother is his alibi?’

‘That’s about the size of it. The murder was committed around ten-fifteen you see.’

Das nodded. ‘But what is it you want from me? Surely it’s straightforward enough.’

‘It might have been if something rather strange hadn’t occurred. Two police officers went to Narcia Street just after midnight to bring Harold in for questioning. They had to kick on the door for a good five minutes before he showed any signs of life. His mother failed to put in an appearance at all. He said she was sleeping like a baby and hadn’t been very well, but according to the officer in charge, no one could have slept through such a disturbance.’

‘Unless drugged of course,’ Das said.

‘He did find a box of Canbutal capsules on the mantelpiece, which seemed to offer a solution.’

‘So what you’re really wondering is whether or not Mrs Phillips could have been in bed and asleep when Harold returned home – whenever that was.’

‘Naturally – I understand Canbutal is pretty powerful stuff. I also understand that it’s not usually prescribed in simple cases of insomnia.’

Das got to his feet, went to the fireplace and selected a black cheroot from a sandalwood box. ‘What I tell you now must be treated in the strictest confidence. You’re right about Canbutal. It works best in cases where the patient cannot sleep because of extreme pain. It’s as close to the old-fashioned knock-out drops as you can get.’

‘Mrs Phillips must be pretty ill to need a thing like that.’

‘Cancer.’

There was a moment of silence as if darkness had drifted into the room. Miller took a deep breath and went on, ‘Does Harold know?’

‘She doesn’t know herself. She’s had bronchial trouble for years. She thinks this is the same thing she gets every winter only a little worse than usual. She’ll go very quickly. Any time, any day.’

‘What kind of an effect would the Canbutal have – can she be awakened, for example?’

‘That would depend on the amount taken. Mrs Phillips is on a dosage of two each night. She visits me once a week and I give her a prescription for a week’s supply. As a matter of fact I saw her yesterday morning.’