Serif was lying on the carpet, his hand an inch from Smith’s head, a surprised look on his unconscious face.

‘Have you seen an owl?’ Smith asked the woman.

‘Yes,’ said Joan. ‘How did you know?’

Smith was barely aware of Joan leaving again to run up the driveway to the school.

She left Serif, who showed no sign of waking up, roughly bound by a sheet. She woke Mr Moffat the bursar up, and demanded to use the school telephone, shouting at the night operator that this was an emergency, a burglar had been caught and the police must be summoned.

A Black Maria stopped outside the cottage and Sergeant Abelard, an old man with a white Kitchener moustache, helped his two constables to lift the still unconscious Serif into the back of the van.

‘An anarchist, by the look of him,’ said the sergeant. ‘One of these Russian fellows like as did Sidney Street. Perhaps it was him set off the poison gas in the hospital.’

‘Poison gas?’ exclaimed Joan.

‘Sorry, madam, I didn’t mean to alarm you. It’s all dealt with now, the papers will be full of it tomorrow.’

‘What happened?’ asked Smith. He was wrapped in a rug, a cup of tea in his right hand, his left little finger bandaged up by Joan. She’d winced as he did as she’d bathed the end of it in alcohol.

‘Somebody set off what we think must have been a gas bomb in St Catherine’s. We wired Whitehall and they said to have the fire brigade hose the place down. They’ve been at it all day. Some of those lads got a look inside the place, and what they describe… well, sir, I wouldn’t like to repeat it in the company of a lady. There’s a convoy on the way from Clapperton. We’ll hand the matter over to the army boys when they arrive. Bit of a feather in my cap to have apprehended somebody, though. What did he want here, do you think?’

Smith stared at him. ‘He must have been a burglar. He cut off my finger. Perhaps he was looking… for a ring? No, I don’t wear a ring. He knocked me out. And there was something about an owl…’

The policeman flipped his notebook closed. ‘I don’t think he’ll be much help to us tonight, madam. It’s understandable. Could I ask you both to call at the police station tomorrow morning?’

Smith and Joan agreed, and thanked the police. The van drove away and Joan pulled up a chair to sit beside Smith, who was still staring vacantly into space.