“You passed the remark that he was murdered,” said Mr. Sage more collectedly.

“The coroner did,” corrected Alleyn. “Still, we’ve got to explore the possibility of accident. If you could give me the name of the doctor who prescribed the powder, it would be a great help.”

“I can’t remember. I make up hundreds of prescriptions every week.”

“Do you often forget to enter them?”

Mr. Sage was silent.

Alleyn took out a pencil and an envelope. On the envelope he wrote three names.

“Was it any of those?” he asked.

“No.”

“Will you swear to that?”

“Yes. Yes, I would.”

“Look here, Mr. Sage, are you sure it wasn’t your own prescription that you gave Miss O’Callaghan?”

“‘Fulvitavolts’ is my own invention. I told you that.”

“But the other?”

“No, I tell you—no.”

“Very well. Are you in sympathy with Comrade Kakaroff over the death of Sir Derek O’Callaghan?”

Mr. Sage opened his mouth and shut it again. He put his hands behind him and leaned against a shelf.

“To what do you refer?” he said.

“You were at the meeting last night.”

“I don’t hold with the remarks passed at the meeting. I never ’ave. I’ve said so. I said so last night.”

“Right. I don’t think there’s anything else.”

Alleyn put the packet of ‘Fulvitavolts’ in his pocket.

“How much are these?”

“Three and nine.”

Alleyn produced two half-crowns and handed them to Mr. Sage, who, without another word, walked out of the room and upstairs to the shop. Alleyn followed. Mr. Sage punched the cash register and conjured up the change. The sleek young man leant with an encouraging smile towards an incoming customer.

“Thank you very much, sir,” said Mr. Sage, handing Alleyn one and threepence.

“Thank you. Good morning.”

“Good morning, sir.”

Alleyn went to the nearest telephone-booth and rang up the Yard.

“Anything come in for me?”

“Just a moment, sir… Yes. Sir John Phillips is here and wants to see you.”

“Oh. Is he in my room?”

“Yes.”

“Ask him to speak to me, will you?”

A pause.

“Hullo.”

“Hullo. Is that Sir John Phillips?”

“Yes. Inspector Alleyn—I want to see you. I want to make a clean breast of it.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” said Alleyn.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The “Clean Breast” of Sir John Phillips

Wednesday to Thursday.

PHILLIPS STARED AT Chief Inspector Alleyn’s locked desk, at his chair, at the pattern of thick yellow sunlight on the floor of his room. He looked again at his watch. Ten minutes since Alleyn had rung up. He had said he would be there in ten minutes. Phillips knew what he was going to say. There was no need to go over that again. He went over it again. A light footstep in the passage outside. The door handle turned. Alleyn came in.