‘Watson attended the post-mortem. Explain, Doctor.’

I could only presume that he wanted to observe the boy’s reactions. ‘Her body was found trapped underwater in the Jesus Lock,’ I said. ‘Her hair was entangled in the mechanism.’

‘Dillie drowned?’

‘Officially, yes. But there was a concussion and it is likely that she was unconscious when she entered the water. Then she was sucked under.’

Vitale’s eyes glistened though he remained stiff. I could see he was holding back. Was it possible that this young man had more feeling for the dead girl than her wealthy fiancé did?

‘Other signs revealed that Miss Wyndham fought someone before entering the water,’ I said.

‘That does not surprise me. Dillie was … quick to anger,’ said he, sadly. ‘I worried about her. It took little to provoke her.’

‘Indeed,’ said Holmes. He prowled the laboratory, glancing up at the glass tubing. ‘Interesting. These will light up, in sequence.’ He pulled at the blackout curtains but they had been nailed in place. He looked about for an exit. ‘Ah, a cupboard. Mr Vitale, if the police come I suggest you – we all – hide for the moment. He returned to face Vitale.

‘I will not hide. I am innocent.’

‘It looks bad for you, Mr Vitale. You would be wise to buy yourself some time.’

The young man looked stricken. ‘I would never harm a hair … She … I wonder about the ring.’

Yet another young man worried more about his token?

‘What about the ring?’ asked Holmes, gently. He was, I thought, providing the boy rope with which to hang himself. Both of Miss Wyndham’s betrothed were suspects, I decided. I was now beginning to sense something odd, held back, about Leo Vitale’s manner.

‘Why would she accept me, take my ring, and then accept another the next day? None of this makes sense. Oh, Dillie, I …’ The boy’s eyes moistened.

‘I need two things from you, Mr Vitale,’ said Holmes. ‘First, your exact whereabouts, hour by hour, between your argument outside the Cross and Anchor and this morning at six a.m. And I need you to allow Dr Watson to examine you.’

‘Examine me?’

‘Whoever did this received a beating. She fought back.’

A wave of grief contorted his features and then in an instant was gone. ‘Yes. She would, of course. But I … oh, no, this will only make it worse. I … well, you see …’ He unbuttoned his shirt. Several bright bruises and abrasions were visible. Vitale brushed back a long lock of dark hair that hung down over his forehead and onto his cheek. There, next to the left eye, was another recent bruise and a small cut. I felt Holmes stiffen beside me. Neither of us had expected this.

‘It is not what you think,’ said Vitale. ‘I got into a fight last night.’

‘With whom?’

He did not want to say.

‘With whom, Mr Vitale?’ insisted Holmes.

‘Freddie Eden-Summers.’

Holmes and I exchanged a look.