I cast a doubtful look at the slumbering witch. There was no chance this was our man. Winter seemed to read my thoughts. ‘Appearances can be deceptive, Ivy. Perhaps he’s sleeping off a hangover because his guilt turned him to drink.’

‘There’s no evidence—’ I began.

‘I said perhaps. And you’ve accused everyone else we’ve met so far. Why not him?’

I shrugged; it just didn’t seem very likely. In any case, Oscar Marsh clearly wasn’t going to wake up without further help. I glanced round the room. Unless I was going to chuck the dregs of flat beer into his face, there wasn’t much that would help. Frankly, the man already smelled badly enough.

‘I’ll find the kitchen and get some water,’ I said gruffly. I turned on my heel.

There was a small galley kitchen towards the front door. It was surprisingly clean but Oscar Marsh probably didn’t do much cooking if he lived on a liquid diet. I was beginning to feel irritated. The Order obviously knew he had problems; there were plenty of things they could have done to help him.

I opened cupboards until I found a cup, took it to the sink and turned on the tap. Winter was shouting at Marsh in the other room. I paused and listened. It still didn’t seem like the man had woken up.

Glancing down, I reached over to turn off the tap. That was when I spotted the small, charred fragment of paper caught in the plughole. I set the cup to one side and carefully pulled it out. It was little more than a few inches wide and had obviously been burnt but there were still a few words visible.

I squinted at them and my veins ran ice cold. I guess I’d been wrong about Marsh. Leaving the water where it was, I went back to Winter. He was crouched down by Marsh’s head, poking him. ‘Winter,’ I whispered. He didn’t react. I tried again. ‘Rafe!’

The urgency in my voice reached him. He turned round and glanced at me. Grimly, I held out the tiny piece of paper. ‘I probably should have worn gloves,’ I said apologetically, realising that I had probably contaminated the evidence.

Winter stood up and took the paper. It took less than a second for its meaning to sink in. His face shuttered and something indefinable flashed in his eyes. Without another word he spun round, marched back to Marsh and hauled him upwards by the scruff of his neck.

Even Winter’s violent tug didn’t immediately wake up the witch. He emitted a groan. When Winter shook him, he finally opened his eyes, bleary confusion in their murky brown depths.

‘Wh – what?’ Marsh gabbled.

‘Philosophus Oscar Marsh, you are under arrest by proclamation of the Hallowed Order of Magical Enlightenment,’ Winter spat, using official Order language. ‘Any attempt to use magic to provoke, conceal or avoid taking responsibility for your actions will be held against you, regardless of your guilt or innocence. You are entitled to legal representation and to apply to the non-magical courts for consideration.’