‘Miss Wyndham picked up that bottle of ink and flung it across the room at you. It hit the doorjamb, the cap cracked, and a few drops spattered on your neck, there. And on the moulding around the door, which I noted, even though it was cleaned up after you left.’

Leo Vitale was breathing in quick, shallow breaths.

‘Slow, deep breaths, Mr Vitale,’ I said.

‘You might well have become enraged. You had been betrayed, stolen from, used – and attacked – and yet you left. You left the young lady unharmed.’

Vitale closed his eyes, nodding.

‘But those torn knuckles!’ insisted Hadley.

Holmes held up a hand. ‘Tell us about the fight with Eden-Summers at Trinity. What happened there? Why did you go there?’

‘I tried to tell him what Dillie … what I thought she …’ He began to cough. ‘Perhaps together we could … but he would not let me into the room, he would not listen.’ Another coughing spell overtook him.

‘Easy, Mr Vitale,’ I said.

‘He came into the hall. He told me he would have nothing to do with me. That Dillie would never do what I claimed. He was inebriated, belligerent. We fought …’

I remembered now that Eden-Summers claimed his injuries were from a fight with some stranger in the hall. He had obviously left out a key element of the story.

‘But why did you go there?’ asked Hadley. ‘What did you expect?’

The boy was now coughing so hard he could not answer.

‘He hoped that Eden-Summers would join him, and that the two of them together could perhaps recover their rings. Isn’t that right, Mr Vitale?’ said Holmes.

The boy nodded, recovering. ‘I thought he might have more influence.’

‘But as you said before, some combination of pride, ego and a great deal of alcohol prevented your rival from seeing the logic of your plan. You left Eden-Summers. What did you do next?’ continued my friend.

‘I went back to my room. I tried to sleep.’ Tears ran down Vitale’s face. ‘I regret … I regret …’

‘You are lying!’ cried Hadley. ‘What you regret is killing Odelia Wyndham!’

‘No!’ gasped Vitale. ‘I regret not returning to her. Because I might have saved her.’

Holmes rose abruptly. ‘May we finish this in your office, Mr Hadley?’ said he.

Vitale closed his eyes and tears coursed down his cheeks. ‘I might have saved … if only …’

Ten minutes later we faced Hadley in his spacious and well-lit office. The police inspector sat behind an imposing desk and leaned forward on it, attentive and fully ready to listen to Holmes. My friend and I were seated in chairs facing the desk. Holmes was wrapped in a blanket and holding coffee in his shivering hands, despite the rising warmth of the day. He had not eaten in a day and a half, and the rescue in the lock and contretemps in Vitale’s cell would have laid low a lesser man.