“Nothing. I can’t imagine how they got there. You needn’t return them, sir. I don’t really think I want them any more.”
“I don’t think you would,” agreed Alleyn, “if you saw them.”
Henry’s face shone like ivory on that dimly lit landing. His eyes were like black coals under the cold whiteness of his forehead.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“They are stained.”
“Stained? With what?”
“It looks like blood.”
Henry turned on his heel and went blindly into the flat.
Fox returned with Bailey.
“I want to go all over the inside of the lift, Bailey,” said Alleyn. “Try the stops and the doorknobs — everything. Get Thompson to take a close-up shot of the seat and wall.”