‘I wondered why Deacon Buttons kept the bottle. I noticed it was near full when I saw it earlier and half empty last night. And the top was cracked and leaking. Where had all the ink gone to in so short a span of time?’ Holmes began coughing. He seemed to be struggling.

At a pause, the father interjected. ‘What does it matter? Peregrine wrote with it, perhaps.’

‘Half a bottle, so quickly? The notes in his Bible were all in black ink. So, I began to look. The ink had gone to several places, as it turns out. I discovered a small pool of purple ink had caught in the doorframe. It had dripped into the crack between the moulding and the wall, near eye level for a tall man. Then someone attempted to wipe it away. And tonight, I found a dot of it on Mr Vitale’s neck.’

‘Well there you have it!’ said Lamb. ‘As I have told you. Mr Vitale is the killer.’

‘And Mr Wright reports a smear of ink … on the sheets on Deacon Buttons’ bed. Someone got into that bed with ink on their hands.’

Father Lamb shrugged, dismissively.

‘What does all this tell you, Mr Holmes?’ asked Hadley.

‘A great deal, actually. Thank you for that, Wright. Here, then, is what happened. Miss Wyndham went to see Deacon Buttons, and from the deacon’s own testimony she sent him to pawn her two engagement rings so that they could run away together.’

‘I doubt that,’ sneered Father Lamb. ‘Now you are simply concocting.’

‘The rings have been found at the pawnshop, and Deacon Buttons has been identified as the one who pawned them,’ said Hadley, coldly.

Holmes smiled. ‘To continue, then. While Buttons was off pawning the rings, Miss Wyndham disrobed to enact the second part of her plans. Vitale had followed her from her hideaway at the Cross and Anchor to the rectory. There is evidence that he remained awhile under the window. Once Buttons had left, Vitale came to the room, lingered at the door and asked again for his ring back. Seeing her unclothed, he stayed at the door, whereupon Miss Wyndham threw a bottle of ink at him. The cap cracked as it hit the doorjamb, splattering there, and a small drop landed on his neck. Vitale left, went to Eden-Summers’ rooms at Trinity College, where the two young men fought, both receiving damage to their hands and persons. Failing to convince his rival to join him in confronting Miss Wyndham, Vitale gave up, and returned to his dormitory to sleep.’

‘What evidence do you have for this?’ cried the priest. He turned to Hadley. ‘Inspector Hadley, why have you turned over your investigation to this amateur? Leo Vitale confessed to me!’