“Is this how it was for the operation?” asked Alleyn. “Everything in its right place?”

“Er—yes, I think so. Yes.”

“Which way did the patient lie?”

“Head here. Eastward position, eh? Ha ha!”

“I see. There would be a trolley alongside the table, perhaps?”

“It would be wheeled away as soon as the patient was taken off it.”

“That’s the side table, over by the windows, where the syringes were set out?”

“That’s it.”

“Can you show me just where you all stood at the time each of the injections was given? Wait a bit—I’ll make a sort of plan. My memory’s hopeless. Damn, where’s my pencil?”

Alleyn opened his notebook and produced a small rule from his pocket. He measured the floor space, made a tiny plan and marked the positions of the two tables, and, as Thoms instructed him, those of the surgeons and nurses.

“Sir John would be here, about half-way along the table, isn’t it? I stood opposite there. Marigold hovered round here, and the other two moved about a bit.”

“Yes. Well, where, as near as you can give it, would they all be for the operation?”

“The surgeons and anæsthetist where I have shown you. Marigold on Sir John’s right and the other two somewhere in the background.”

“And for the camphor injection?”

“As before, except for the Bolshie, who gave it. She would be here, by the patient’s arm, you see.”

“Did you watch Nurse Banks give this injection?”

“Don’t think so. I wouldn’t notice. Probably wouldn’t see her hands—they’d be hidden by the little screen across the patient’s chest.”

“Oh. I’ll take a look at that afterwards if I may. Now the anti-gas injection.”

“That was after Sir John had sewed him up. I dressed the wound and asked for the serum. I damned that girl to heaps for keeping me waiting—felt rather a brute when she hit the floor two minutes later—what? I stood here, on the inside of the table; Sir John was opposite; Marigold had moved round to my side. Roberts and Banks, if that’s her name, were fussing round over the patient, and Roberts kept bleating about the pulse and so on. They were both at the patient’s head.”

“Wait a bit. I’ll fix those positions. Perhaps I’ll get you to help me to reconstruct the operation later on. You have no doubts, I suppose, about it being the correct syringe—the one you used, I mean?”

“None. It seemed to be perfectly in order.”

“Was there any marked change in the patient’s condition after this injection?”