“What’s she say?” Campbell demanded. “She said something. What was it?”

“German, I think,” said Henry.

“What’s she got in her pocket? Here, Nurse! Get rid of that torch.” The nurse looked at her hand. “Oh. Silly of me,” she said, and put the torch down.

“Now,” said Campbell, “put your hand in her pocket and see what she’s got hold of. Carefully. It may be a knife.”

“Why a knife?” asked Henry.

Campbell didn’t answer him. The nurse approached her patient and over Roberta’s head gingerly slid her hand down Lady Wutherwood’s arm into the pocket. Roberta, looking up, saw the nurse’s face bleach out abruptly to the colour of parchment.

“What’s the matter!” Campbell demanded.

“She’s — she’s — got — both her hands — in her pocket.”

Henry said violently; “Don’t be an ass, Nurse. What d’you mean?”

The nurse backed away from Lady Wutherwood, pointing at the pocket and nodding her head.

“I’ve got her right hand,” said Campbell impatiently. “What are you talking about?”

“There are two hands in her pocket,” said the nurse, and fainted.

Chapter XIX

Severed Hand

The taxi pulled up at 24 Brummell Street, discharged its fares and skidded off into the rain.

“Quiet enough,” said Nigel. “You’ve got a jitterbug, Inspector.”

“There’s a light on in the hall,” said Alleyn. “What about the entrance here, Fox? Wasn’t there a man outside?”

“The P.C. on this beat,“ said Fox. ”He was told to stay outside and another chap was put on the beat.”

“Well, where is the P.C.?”

“Taking shelter, most likely,” said Fox. “He’ll hear about this.” Alleyn rang the bell at 24. Immediately they heard inside the click of a lock.

“Hullo,” said Alleyn. “That’s sudden.”

The door opened. Moffatt, very pale, with a rug clutched about him, stared at them.

“Are you from Scotland Yard, sir?”

“Yes. Anything wrong?”

“Yes, sir. Something terrible’s happened. I don’t know what it is, but…” Moffatt followed them up, leaving the door open behind him.

“Where is it?” Alleyn asked. “We’re all here. You’d better shut the door. Where’s the man on duty?”

“Mr. Campbell, sir? He’s upstairs, sir, and there’s a doctor there too, sir.”

“A doctor!” said Alleyn sharply.

“And there’s a policeman outside the room where his lordship’s lying. Something terrible—”

“We’ll go up,” said Alleyn. “How many floors?”

“Three, sir. And his lordship’s lying on the next floor. Her ladyship, sir, has been screaming something frightful to hear and…”

Alleyn was half-way up the first flight. The others followed him, Moffatt bleating in the rear. The fourth-floor landing was brightly lit. On the top stair Alleyn found a group of three. A uniformed nurse, white to the lips, was on the floor, propped against the stairhead. Above her stood Henry Lamprey and Roberta Grey. They, too, were deadly pale. As soon as she saw Alleyn the nurse said: “I’m quite all right and ready for duty. I don’t know what happened to me. It wasn’t natural. I’ve never slept on duty before, never. If the doctor wants me—”

“Where is the doctor?”

“In the fourth room along that passage,” said Henry. “Don’t mistake it for the third room. My aunt is locked in there. Stark mad, with her husband’s hand in her pocket.”

“They took it away,” said the nurse in a high voice.

Alleyn strode down the passage, followed by Fox.

“Henry,” said Nigel, “what in heaven’s name are you talking about?”

“Hullo, Nigel,” said Henry. “Follow your boy friends and find out.”

“But—”

“For God’s sake,” said Henry, “leave us alone.”

Nigel followed Alleyn and Fox. ii

In the fourth room along the passage Alleyn examined the body of William Giggle. He lay in his bed, on his right side, with the clothes drawn up to his mouth. There was a bloodstained dent on his left temple, a horseshoe-shaped mark pointing downwards towards the cheek with the arched end near the brow. When Alleyn drew down the bed-clothes he saw Giggle’s throat. A razor lay on the sheet close to Giggle’s head. Alleyn bent lower.

“Cooling,” he said.

“He’s been dead at least two hours,” said Dr. Curtis.

“Has he, by gum?” said Fox.

The bed was against the left-hand wall of the room. There was a space between the head of the bed and the back wall. Alleyn moved into it and made a gesture over the throat.

“Yes,” Curtis said, “like that. You notice it begins low down on the right near the clavicle, and runs upward almost to the left ear.”

“There’s no blood on any of them, sir,” said Campbell. “Not on her or any of them.”

Alleyn pointed to a slash in the collar of the pyjama jacket and Curtis nodded. “I know. It was done under the bedclothes. Look at them. Yes,” as Alleyn stooped to peer at an object at his feet. “She knocked him out with that boot. There’s blood on the heel.”

“Put it away carefully, Campbell. Chalk the positions. We’ll want Bailey and Thompson.”

“They’re coming,” said Curtis.

“Good.” Alleyn took a counterpane from the end of the bed and covered the body with it. “The same idea, you see,” he said, “with a difference. She’s learnt that an injury to the brain doesn’t always mean instant death but she’s stuck to the preliminary knock-out. It works well. Two hours, you say?”

“Or more.”

“We wouldn’t have saved him, Fox, if we had caught the express.”

“No, sir.”

“If only I’d seen that book a little earlier. What have you got in there, Campbell?”

Campbell had taken a rolled-up towel from the top of the dressing-table.

“It just doesn’t make sense,” sakd Campbell. “My Gawd, sir, we found it in her pocket with the key of the room downstairs. It’s like one of these damn-fool stories.”

“The Case of the Severed Hand?”

“How did you know, sir?”

“Her nephew told me. I’ll see the thing later.”

“Mr. Alleyn expected it,” said Fox quickly.

“I’m afraid it makes very good sense, Campbell,” said Alleyn. “Where is Lady Wutherwood?”

“Next door,” said Curtis. “I gave her an injection. Had to. She’d have hurt herself otherwise. She’s quieter now. I’ve telephoned Kantripp.”

“And the others?”

“The servants are all in the room at the end of the passage,” said Campbell. “Her personal maid, Tinkerton the name is, keeps asking to see her.”

“Let her stay where she is.” Alleyn moved to the door, turned, and looked at the bed.

“Well,” he said, “I suppose if he’d been asked he’d have preferred this.”

“To what?” asked Nigel.

“To the quick drop, Mr. Bathgate,” said Fox.

“Good God, was he the murderer?”

“Yes, yes,” said Alleyn impatiently. “Come on.” iii

Alleyn sent Curtis to look at Lady Wutherwood, and Campbell to the servants’ room where one of the maids could be heard enjoying fits of hysterics. Henry, Roberta, and the nurse were still on the landing. The nurse again expressed her devotion to duty and was told she could report to the doctor. Henry and Roberta were sent upstairs.

“If you can find a room with a heater,” said Alleyn, “I should use it. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

“I want to know—” Henry began.

“Of course you do. Give me a little longer, will you?”

“Yes, sir.”

Alleyn and Fox went down to the green drawing-room, followed by a completely silent Nigel. Alleyn sent the policeman on guard there up to Campbell. He unlocked the door with the key that had been found in Lady Wutherwood’s dressing-gown pocket; The room was heavy with flowers.

The sound of wind and rain was loudest here. Gilded chairs and china cupboards stood at intervals round the walls, which were hung with green silk. Behind those sad folds the wainscoting uttered furtive little noises. A monstrous chandelier chimed dolefully as some one walked along the passage overhead. On three trestles in the middle of the room lay Lord Wutherwood’s body in an open coffin. The face was covered and a sheaf of lilies quite hid the breast. Alleyn moved them away. For a moment they were all silent. Then Nigel took out his handkerchief.