Holmes nodded to me, indicating ‘Larry’. I helped the boy up with a touch more force than he clearly was used to, and handing him his shoes, ejected him into the hall. As I returned, Frederick Eden-Summers was just fastening his trousers.

‘Sit down, young man,’ said Holmes sternly. ‘Where were you last night between suppertime and this morning at six?’

The boy flopped into a chair and looked about for his shoes. ‘I do not like the sound of this. What has Dillie done exactly?’

Holmes was silent.

The boy’s face went grave. He stood up. ‘Something is wrong, isn’t it?’

‘Again, I ask, where were you?’

‘Right here. The Dalliers. Our bi-weekly game.’

‘Tell me about the Dalliers,’ said Holmes.

‘A club I started. We … er … we gamble, dine, drink and generally carouse. It’s a small group. We are dedicated to bringing a special touch of levity to our otherwise quite dreary studies. We study the law. Before the wig, before the bar, we … drink. And gamble.’ He smiled charmingly. I could see the appeal he would have had for a young woman. Rakish, and rich beyond compare. Even his dishevelled clothing probably cost more than my entire wardrobe.

‘Will anyone vouch for you besides your inebriated friend?’ Holmes asked.

‘Several. Although I think they wandered off at various times. Must have been this morning, though. I recall losing big at five-thirty.’ He nodded to one wall, where a grandfather clock, another unusual component of student lodging, stood bedecked with a variety of coloured socks. It did, however, read the correct time, three-thirty p.m.

The porter knocked and entered with coffee. He brought only one cup, handed it to young Eden-Summers, who leaped up and, as a parched desert traveller might grab a drink, took the cup and gulped it down. The porter retreated.

The young man shook his head, then met our eyes. ‘Sir, I see you are here on serious business. What?’

‘Sit down again, Mr Eden-Summers, and put that cup on the table.’

‘I prefer to stand.’

‘Very well. Miss Odelia Wyndham was found drowned some four hours ago.’

The boy dropped the cup with a clatter. His face went white.

‘Dillie! But … but I was with her just yesterday. She …’ His voice trailed off as he focused on an image which seemed in the far distance. His face clouded, and he closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and gave a long, shuddering sigh.

Holmes glanced at me in frustration. After a moment, Eden-Summers opened his eyes and stared at Holmes, all traces of the night’s debauchery gone. ‘Has her body been … er … are they sure that it is her?’ he asked in a new, serious voice.

‘Yes,’ said Holmes.

‘Found by whom?’

‘A baker passing the location.’

‘Where?’

‘You tell me.’

‘What? You think that I—? Why would—?’ Eden-Summers scowled. ‘My father will have something to say about this!’