‘Did Harris tell you about the fire? That the site of the chapel had moved? Well, most of what look like grave markers in this corner of the clearing are actually bits of debris from the original chapel. We had to move a few slabs to find the staircase, but we’re assuming this was the entrance to the old crypt.’ Randy held out a hand, and smiled ghoulishly. ‘Step into my world, my friends.’

Once they were appropriately kitted out, Fleet and Nicky followed Randy down the narrow stairwell. Both men had to duck and turn sideways, but Nicky was so slender there would have been space for her double at her side.

‘Did nobody know this place was here?’ said Fleet.

‘Apparently not,’ Randy replied. ‘It looks as though the entrance got blocked up when the old building collapsed, and it clearly hadn’t been disturbed in years. Although someone obviously found out about it at some point.’

When they reached the bottom of the steps, the chamber opened out, and Fleet was able to stand upright. There was no daylight in the crypt, but the space was being illuminated by powerful LEDs, allowing Fleet to survey the scene before him. The room was perhaps seven or eight metres square. The walls were made of stone, as was the floor. There were Latin inscriptions on some of the stones, and markers to show where people had been buried. The words were so faded it was hard to tell who or when, but the vault appeared to be centuries old at least – older even than the gravestones outside.

‘A site of potential historical interest,’ Fleet muttered, recalling the way the headmaster had described the place. Harris must have used the description in Randy’s presence, too, because the pathologist gave an irritated snort.

‘I tell you, that man has been buzzing around us like a fly around a dead body. Talking of which …’ he added, with a macabre leer.

There were two white-suited SOCOs in a corner of the room. One was on her hands and knees, while her colleague peered over her shoulder. From her evident concentration levels, and the careful sweeping of her hands, she might have been searching for a dropped contact lens.

When the SOCOs saw Randy approach, they moved to one side, allowing Fleet to see what they’d been examining.

It was a bag of bones. Literally.

Half buried in a pile of loose earth were the frayed remains of what looked like a hessian sack, and a skeleton curled in a foetal position. The skeleton was small. Child-sized.

Fleet cleared his throat. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any chance these remains are as old as those tombs?’ he asked Randy, not moving his eyes from the body at his feet.