Alleyn strode down the passage, followed by Fox.

“Henry,” said Nigel, “what in heaven’s name are you talking about?”

“Hullo, Nigel,” said Henry. “Follow your boy friends and find out.”

“But—”

“For God’s sake,” said Henry, “leave us alone.”

Nigel followed Alleyn and Fox.

In the fourth room along the passage Alleyn examined the body of William Giggle. He lay in his bed, on his right side, with the clothes drawn up to his mouth. There was a bloodstained dent on his left temple, a horseshoe-shaped mark pointing downwards towards the cheek with the arched end near the brow. When Alleyn drew down the bed-clothes he saw Giggle’s throat. A razor lay on the sheet close to Giggle’s head. Alleyn bent lower.

“Cooling,” he said.

“He’s been dead at least two hours,” said Dr. Curtis.

“Has he, by gum?” said Fox.

The bed was against the left-hand wall of the room. There was a space between the head of the bed and the back wall. Alleyn moved into it and made a gesture over the throat.

“Yes,” Curtis said, “like that. You notice it begins low down on the right near the clavicle, and runs upward almost to the left ear.”

“There’s no blood on any of them, sir,” said Campbell. “Not on her or any of them.”

Alleyn pointed to a slash in the collar of the pyjama jacket and Curtis nodded. “I know. It was done under the bedclothes. Look at them. Yes,” as Alleyn stooped to peer at an object at his feet. “She knocked him out with that boot. There’s blood on the heel.”

“Put it away carefully, Campbell. Chalk the positions. We’ll want Bailey and Thompson.”

“They’re coming,” said Curtis.

“Good.” Alleyn took a counterpane from the end of the bed and covered the body with it. “The same idea, you see,” he said, “with a difference. She’s learnt that an injury to the brain doesn’t always mean instant death but she’s stuck to the preliminary knock-out. It works well. Two hours, you say?”

“Or more.”

“We wouldn’t have saved him, Fox, if we had caught the express.”

“No, sir.”

“If only I’d seen that book a little earlier. What have you got in there, Campbell?”

Campbell had taken a rolled-up towel from the top of the dressing-table.

“It just doesn’t make sense,” said Campbell. “My Gawd, sir, we found it in her pocket with the key of the room downstairs. It’s like one of these damn-fool stories.”

“The Case of the Severed Hand?”

“How did you know, sir?”

“Her nephew told me. I’ll see the thing later.”

“Mr. Alleyn expected it,” said Fox quickly.

“I’m afraid it makes very good sense, Campbell,” said Alleyn. “Where is Lady Wutherwood?”

“Next door,” said Curtis. “I gave her an injection. Had to. She’d have hurt herself otherwise. She’s quieter now. I’ve telephoned Kantripp.”

“And the others?”

“The servants are all in the room at the end of the passage,” said Campbell. “Her personal maid, Tinkerton the name is, keeps asking to see her.”