My guardian hunted about for something to fish it out with but, as I looked down the oblong metal-rimmed hole into the swirling sludge two yards below, a yellowed ragged mongrel turned a half-circle and drifted away.

*It could have told us all sorts of things.' Sidney Grice rubbed his left shoulder. *How did it die, for example?'

*I neither know nor care,' Inspector Pound said, *and I do not think Mr Rawlings would want to do a post-mortem on it. He has a hundred human corpses to worry about first.'

The slabs were thick with weeds and moss between and over them, but enough stone was exposed to show dozens of b.l.o.o.d.y footprints.

*What do you make of those?' my guardian asked.

*It looks like a few people were here,' I said. *The prints are all over the place.'

Sidney Grice shook his head. *Just one man.'

*There are at least two sets of prints coming out.' Inspector Pound pointed. *And they overlap in places.'

*One man,' Sidney Grice repeated, *but you are right that there are two sets. See how clear they are near the house, but they fade towards the gateway and the ones coming towards the house are very faint indeed. Obviously, our man ran out of the house a the long strides on the toes.' We followed the course of the prints. *He stopped near the gate here, turned and walked back a these shorter strides. He is putting his heels down but his toes are almost clear of blood. He went back in, got them wet again, and finally ran off. The prints go to the left of the alley before they disappear.' Sidney Grice pinched his upper lip and paced round the courtyard. He poked around in the bushes half-heartedly with his cane, and when he spoke it was probably to himself. *But why would he go back into the cellar?'

*Perhaps he forgot something and went to get it,' I suggested.

*Yes, but what? And, more importantly, what or who was the source of that blood?'

We all went back down into the room. It seemed darker than when we had first entered it, but our eyes soon adjusted themselves.

*Well, at least most of the flies went with the dog,' Inspector Pound said, *and that must be the box our friend Caligula wrote about. Excuse me, Mr Grice. I think this is a police matter.'

Sidney Grice had his hand to the box, but stepped away as Inspector Pound approached it and gingerly lifted the lid.

*Sweet Jesus,' he said. He closed his eyes briefly and exhaled slowly.

*Dear G.o.d.' I looked into the box. *She is little more than a child.'

The body of a girl had been twisted and stuffed into it, her head wrenched at an unnatural angle so that the face was looking over the shoulder, the big eyes staring blindly, glazed like stale fish, the jaw hanging open and the corner of the mouth hacked into the grotesque grin of a clown, the fingers of one hand reaching towards the lid as if she were about to clamber out, the body clothed in a dark garment and everything encrusted in the rust of old blood.

*How old would you say she is?' Sidney Grice said, not taking his eyes off her.

*Fifteen or sixteen,' I said. *Oh, the poor girl. Do you think she lived alone?'

*Who knows?' Inspector Pound said. *She is alone now, though.'

If I were not with men I should have cried.

*She was a pretty thing,' Sidney Grice said.

*Is that important?' I asked.

*It could be,' he said. *Many a girl has died for less reason than that.'

*Look at this.' Inspector Pound indicated a patch of damp plaster on the wall at the back of the cupboard.

*Rivincita,' I read out, *and it looks like the same handwriting.'

*Similar,' Sidney Grice said.

*There is the same unusual capital R,' I pointed out.

*Very similar.' Sidney Grice put his hand to his eye. *So, we might as well have a proper look at her.'

*You cannot expect us to pull her out,' the inspector said.

*No need. The sides are clipped.'

Sidney Grice slid two wooden pegs out and stepped back, and the girl's body came tumbling half on to the brick floor. We could see her wounds now. Her face and neck were cut in several places, as were her hands and arms. The cloth was ripped from her left shoulder to the top of her breast, where there was a wide and deep laceration.

*That would be fatal in itself,' the inspector said.

Sidney Grice rooted in his satchel, struck a Lucifer and lit a stubby candle, holding it over the body and bending so close that his nose almost touched her.

*What have we here?' he said. *Hand me my bag, Miss Middleton.'

I pa.s.sed it over to him and he put the candle down, brought out a small cloth roll, untied it and unrolled it on the floor to reveal a small set of surgeon's instruments.

*What are you doing, Mr Grice?' Inspector Pound asked, but my guardian did not reply. He took a pair of st.u.r.dy locking tweezers, pushed them into the wound and clamped them shut.

*You cannot interfere with the body like that,' Inspector Pound said, but Sidney Grice was not listening. He was rocking the tweezers and pulling them firmly and steadily out, and it was obvious he had something in their grasp.

*There we are,' he cried out in triumph. *What do you make of that?'

It was an elongated triangle of steel. Sidney Grice held it up and rotated it, the tip of a knife, two, perhaps three inches long, glittering in the dancing flame and undulating along its edges.

*It snapped off on a rib,' he said, *but the force of the blow pushed the rest of the knife through.'

*Dear G.o.d,' Inspector Pound said. *It looks exactly like the one that killed Sarah Ashby, the one that William Ashby swore he had sold to the Italian. It all ties in with the letter.'

*Precisely,' Sidney Grice said. *Which all goes to prove that the two murders were committed by two different people.'

Inspector Pound stood up and his voice was sharp and hard. *I cannot argue with you now, Mr Grice. I am going to summon a.s.sistance and have this poor girl taken to the mortuary. Then you and I need to have a long talk. As if it were not enough to be investigating a maniac, I am beginning to think that either you or I must be completely and incurably insane.'

*Which of you is right does not matter very much at the moment,' I said. *Either way there is a madman on the loose. He could be hacking another defenceless girl to death this very minute, and all you can do is stand here squabbling.'

*Now see here...' the inspector said, but did not finish his sentence.

Sidney Grice stepped back and stared at the dead girl. He clicked his tongue, rubbed the back of his neck, and said nothing.

39.

Judas My guardian was thoughtful as we rode home in a hansom, but after a few minutes he brightened and began to tap his knee almost rhythmically.

*You seem very cheerful,' I observed and Sidney Grice smiled.

*I am.'

*How on earth can you be happy after what we have just seen?'

*Because it gives me the opportunity to silence my critics once and for all,' he said and started to hum.

I took a breath and said as calmly as I could, *Is that all it means to you? Do you not feel anything for that poor girl?'

*She knows nothing now,' he said. *No pain. No fear. My feelings cannot help her.' He looked down for a moment and then straight ahead. *But you were right about one thing, March. Whoever did this will certainly strike again a unless he is stopped. And there is only one hope for that a me.'

*So what are you going to do?'

*I have not the faintest idea.' Sidney Grice smiled and twiddled his cane. *But rest a.s.sured I shall do it.'

I was beginning to think that Inspector Pound must be right.

*Have you ever been wrong?'

He looked deeply puzzled. *Why on earth should I want to be that?'

We pa.s.sed an old woman lying by the other side of the road unattended.

*May I ask you another question?'

*By all means,' he said, breaking off from a tuneless hum to polish the top of his cane with his glove.

*Ge' owov the way,' the cabby shouted, but I could not see at whom. He cracked his whip and we shot forwards.

*Do you know where the basin which you used to test William Ashby's knife came from?'

*Probably one of the lesser Stoke potteries,' my guardian said. *It was asymmetrically cast and the quality of the glaze was poor, but I did not look at the stamp on the base. The bowl was full of water as even you will have observed.'

A pigeon landed on the sill and he shooed it away.

*I mean where the policeman fetched it from.'

*No, but I sense that you wish to tell me.'

*Drayton and Son,' I said.

Sidney Grice's cheek ticked and he caught his eye.

*Blast this thing. Blast that quack Goldman and his stupid gutta-percha and all his gla.s.s-blowing nincomp.o.o.ps.' He slipped it into his waistcoat pocket. *The butcher's shop next door to the police station?' he asked, a little too casually, I thought.

*Yes.'

My guardian took a patch from his satchel and turned to look at me. *And what are you inferring from that?'

I drew a breath and said, *Do you not think it possible, indeed likely, that the bowl itself could have been contaminated by blood either by being used to store raw meat, or even just from being touched by a bloodstained hand?'

*Yes.' He tied the cord behind his head.

*And that does not worry you?'

*Not in the least.'

*Might I ask why not?'

*Certainly you might.' He straightened his patch.

*Why not?'

Sidney Grice sighed.

*Because, my dear girl, if there had been blood in the bowl, even the slightest trace of it, the crystals would have changed colour when they were put into the water whereas, as you will recollect, they did not do so until the knife was put into the water.'

*And swirled around,' I said.

*And swirled around,' he agreed.

The cab rocked violently and we heard a few shrill barks.

*Ge' owovit,' the cabby bellowed as his horse shied towards the pavement. The hansom stopped, one wheel up on the kerb, and we heard the crack of a whip and a yelp. *Blasted strays,' he shouted, *gettin' under my 'orse's 'ooves. I run 'em over when I can. Blast the blasted fings.'

*Ladies,' my guardian called.

We straightened ourselves up and the cab set off again, a little unsteadily at first, jolting over a pothole.

*Do you remember remarking that the water was very cold?' I asked.

*My powers of recall are more than the equal of yours,' he said. *I remember it perfectly.'

I hesitated again. *Do you think it possible that any blood on the bowl did not wash into the water until you swirled it?'

*I do not.'

*Or that the crystals did not dissolve in the water until you stirred it with the knife?'

*No.' Sidney Grice banged on the roof with the silvered ferrule of his cane and called, *Pull over, cabby. I shall walk from here.' He flung open the flap. *I have supported you out of the charity of my heart, Miss Middleton. It would be pretty to receive a little loyalty in return.'

*Even at the cost of a miscarriage of justice?' I asked, my voice rising above the noise of the street.