Harold seemed to pull himself together. He sat straighter in his chair and took a deep breath. ‘All right, I’ve had enough. If you’re charging me, I want a lawyer. If you’re not, then I’m not staying here another minute.’

‘If you’ll extend that to five I’ll be more than satisfied,’ Mallory said.

Harold stared at him blankly. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m expecting a chap from the lab to arrive any second. We just want to give you a simple blood test.’

‘Blood test? What for?’

Mallory nodded to Wade who laid the trousers on the table. ‘The tests the lab ran on these trousers proved you were with a woman last night.’

‘All right – I admitted that.’

‘And the post-mortem on Grace Packard indicated she’d had intercourse with someone just before she died.’

‘It wasn’t with me, that’s all I know.’

‘We can prove that one way or the other with the simplest of tests.’ It was from that point on that Mallory started to bend the facts. ‘I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but it’s possible to test a man’s semen for his blood group factor.’

‘So what?’

‘During the post-mortem on Grace Packard a semen smear was obtained. It’s since been tested in the lab and indicates a certain blood group. When the technician gets here from the lab he’ll be able to take a small sample of your blood and tell us what your group is within a couple of minutes – or perhaps you know already?’

Harold stared wildly at him and the silence which enveloped them all was so heavy that suddenly it seemed almost impossible to breathe. His head moved slightly from side to side faster and faster. He tried to get up and then collapsed completely, falling across the table.

He hammered his fist up and down like a hysterical child. ‘The bitch, the rotten stinking bitch. She shouldn’t have laughed at me! She shouldn’t have laughed at me!’

He started to cry and Mallory stood there, hands braced against the table, staring down at him. There was a time when this particular moment would have meant something, but not now. In fact, not for some considerable time now.

Quite suddenly the whole thing seemed desperately unreal – a stupid charade that had no substance. It didn’t seem to be important any longer and that didn’t make sense. Too much in too short a time. Perhaps what he needed was a spot of leave.

He straightened and there was a knock at the door. Brady opened it and a constable handed him a slip of paper. He passed it to Mallory who read it, face impassive. He crumpled it up in one hand and tossed it into the waste bin.

‘A message from Dr Das. Mrs Phillips died peacefully in her sleep fifteen minutes ago. Thank God for that anyway.’