‘Briefly: this. I want to know what happened between you and Mailer by the Apollo, the other day. No,’ Alleyn said and lifted a hand, ‘don’t lie again. You’ll do yourself a lot of damage if you persist. You met him by arrangement to collect your supply of heroin and cocaine. But you also wanted to find out whether he’d been successful in blackmailing Lady Braceley on your behalf. Perhaps that’s a harsh way of putting it but it’s substantially what happened. You had got yourself into trouble in Perugia, Mailer had purported to get you out of it. Knowing your talent for sponging on your aunt, he came again with completely false stories of police activity and the necessity for bribery on a large scale. He told you, no doubt, that Lady Braceley had promised to comply. Do you deny any of this?’

‘No comment,’ said Kenneth.

‘My sole concern is to get a statement from you about your parting with Mailer and where he went—in what direction—when he left you. Your wits,’ Alleyn said, ‘are not so befuddled with narcotics that you don’t understand me. This man has not only made a fool of you and robbed your aunt. He has murdered an old woman. I suppose you know the penalty for comforting and abetting a murderer.’

‘Is this Roman law?’ Kenneth sneered in a shaking voice.

‘You’re a British subject. So is Mailer. You don’t want him caught, do you? You’re afraid of exposure.’

‘No!’

‘Then tell me where he went when he left you.’ At first Alleyn thought Kenneth was going to break down, then that he was going to refuse, but he did neither of these things. He gazed dolefully at Alleyn for several seconds and appeared to gain some kind of initiative. He folded his white hands over his mouth, bit softly at his fingers and put his head on one side. At last he talked and, having begun, seemed to find a release in doing so.

He said that when Mailer had fixed him up with his supply of heroin and cocaine he had ‘had himself a pop’. He carried his own syringe and Mailer, guessing he would be avid for it, had provided him with an ampoule of water and helped him. He adjusted the tourniquet, using Kenneth’s scarf for the purpose. ‘Seb,’ Kenneth said, ‘is fabulous—you know—it’s not easy till you get the knack. Finding the right spot. So he cooked up and fixed me, there and then, and I felt fantastic. He said I’d better carry on with the party.’

They had walked together round the end of the old church and arrived at the iron stairway. Mailer had gone down the stairway into the insula with Kenneth but instead of entering the Mithraeum had continued along the cloister in the direction of the well.