*I did not kill her,' he said. *Not for money. Not for rage. Not for jealousy. Not for nothing. I loved...' He put his face in his hands. *Dear G.o.d, how I loved her.' William Ashby's shoulders shook with sobs and Sidney Grice leaned forwards to separate his fingers and peer between them.

*Real tears,' Sidney Grice said, and leaned back to jot something down.

*Have you no heart?' I asked.

*Not him,' Inspector Pound said, as Sidney Grice surveyed his tea and pulled a wry face.

*It has been contaminated by milk.'

*Everybody has milk,' the constable said.

*Twenty-five per cent of the men and twenty per cent of the people in this room do not,' my guardian said, and slid the mug across the table. *Would you like it?'

William Ashby looked up. *Why, thank you, Mr Grice.' He wiped his face with his sleeve and took a noisy slurp. *I am sorry. Please continue and I shall try to contain myself.'

Sidney Grice's manner remained brusque. He put his pencil down and said, *You have no children?'

*No. None.'

*Nor lost any?'

*Not even in stillbirth.'

My guardian pulled out his watch and flipped open the lid. *How was your business performing?'

*Quite well. We keep busy most of the year.'

*In profit?' He clipped the lid shut.

*A pound or two a week.'

*Your wife died on Monday night.'

*About eleven thirty, yes.'

*Tell me about Sunday.'

William Ashby had a gulp of the tea. *What would you like to know?'

*In what way did it differ from every other Sunday?'

William Ashby chewed his lower lip at the corner and smoothed back his hair, and said at last, *I cannot think of anything unusual, Mr Grice. We generally lie in a bit later on Sundays. The shop is closed, of course, unless anybody knocks.'

*And did anybody?'

*No.'

*You do not go to church?'

*No, but that doesn't make me a murderer.'

*That much is true,' Inspector Pound said. *We hanged the Rector of St Bartholomew's two years ago, and you could not find a more regular churchgoer than he. Mr Grice was of great service in helping me to bring him to justice.'

My guardian waved an impatient hand and asked, *Did you go to school?'

William Ashby looked indignant. *Yes.'

*Where?'

*A Miss Brickett ran a cla.s.s on Divers Street in Whitechapel. I went until I was twelve.'

*I thought you were brought up in Wigan.'

*Until I was seven. My father brought us down to London in search of work. He was a carpenter.'

*What about Monday?' Sidney Grice asked. *Did anything untoward happen before, say, ten o'clock that night?'

*Nothing that I can think of.'

William Ashby finished his tea but still held the mug. His hand was trembling.

*Was it a busy day?'

*No, sir. It was a very quiet day. We had two customers in the morning and none at all after that.'

*What did they buy?'

*One bought a length of twine, the other a quarter pound of tacks.'

*Were you in the shop all day?'

*We were both in the house all day but we took it in turns to man the shop. I did the morning. Then we both did the afternoon. I tidied the shelves a bit and Sarah swept and washed the floor. Then I did the evening until about nine o'clock, then Sarah took over again.'

*You keep long hours.'

*We can't afford to lose any custom. If we are closed people will go elsewhere and may never come back.'

Sidney Grice was busy writing but I could not read his notes. He used some kind of shorthand, tiny complex symbols with occasional sweeps like musical clefs.

*No strangers loitering about? Nothing suspicious?'

*Nothing that struck me or that Sarah mentioned.' The prisoner stared into his mug. *I wish to G.o.d we had seen something. I would not have left my wife in the shop alone if I had any concerns.'

Sidney Grice tapped his teeth with his pencil and said, *Tell me exactly what happened from nine o'clock onwards.'

*It was only just after nine by the church clock,' William Ashby answered. *Sarah came in and said she had left me some bread and cheese in the kitchen. I took a gla.s.s of milk out to Tilly.'

*Who is Tilly? The cat?' Inspector Pound asked.

*A match girl. I let her shelter in my doorway. She is half-starved, poor thing, and she has a cruel master a her own uncle, I believe.'

*And then?'

*I went out the back to the kitchen.'

*And your wife was still in the shop?'

*She was polishing the countertop.'

*So you ate your bread and cheese?'

*Yes.'

*Any rabbit?'

William Ashby looked bemused. *No. We had a rabbit for our Sunday dinner, though.'

*In the kitchen?'

*No. In the sitting room by the fire.'

Sidney Grice made a note followed by a large question mark.

*And what did you burn in the fire?'

*Wood, I think. It is cheaper than coal and I had an old packing crate.'

*Not paper?'

*No, but Sarah burnt some paper on Monday afternoon. I was cross with her for I dislike the waste, but she said it was just old sc.r.a.ps from clearing up the shop so I let the matter drop.'

*You did not fly into a violent rage?'

William Ashby took a sharp breath and let it shudder out of him.

*I thought you were here to help me, Mr Grice.'

*Mrs Dillinger made the same mistake.' Sidney Grice smiled fleetingly. *I am here to discover the truth. If you are innocent, I shall be all the help you need. If you are guilty, the hounds of h.e.l.l shall not save you.'

William Ashby's gaze lingered in mine before he pulled away and looked my guardian in the eye.

*If you can prove the truth, that is all I ask.'

*Perhaps you accidentally stabbed her,' Sidney Grice said. *Maybe your wife ran on to your knife or you slipped a n.o.body could blame you for that a or perhaps you just meant to cut her a few times to teach her a lesson. That would only count as manslaughter with a sympathetic jury.'

*I did not kill her,' William Ashby said quietly and slowly. *I should be arranging a Christian burial for my wife and comforting her mother, not being held here like a common felon.'

Sidney Grice shrugged. *What did you do after your supper?'

*I fell asleep.'

*When?'

*About half an hour later. I don't have a watch and the clock only strikes the hour.'

*Where?'

*In my chair by the stove.'

I heard a clinking and glanced over to see my guardian toying with two halfpennies, flipping them over in his left hand.

*Was the stove lit?' Sidney Grice asked.

*No. Sarah did her baking on Sunday.'

*Would the sitting room not have been more comfortable?'

*Certainly, but I just fell asleep in the chair.'

The constable sneezed into his hand.

*Was the back door open or closed?'

*Closed.'

*Locked?'

*No. We use it to get to the privy so we only lock it at night.'

*What about the door into the sitting room?'

*Closed as far as it goes. The frame sags in the middle.'

*And that from the sitting room to the shop?'

*Closed to cut the draughts.'

Sidney Grice winced and rubbed his left shoulder.

*And when did you awake?'

*About eleven to a quarter past, I suppose. I didn't check the time. How could I?'

*So you slept for two hours in an upright wooden chair?'

*How did you know what chair it was?'

Sidney Grice raised a finger. *You are quick off the mark, Mr Ashby, but I have not come here for you to cross-examine me. I ask you again. Why sleep in the kitchen when you have a serviceable sitting room with an armchair and a bed?'