Mike paused and regarded Alleyn with some complacency. Nobody stirred. The nursery clock ticked loudly on the mantelpiece. A little gust of wind shook the window-panes. Down below in Pleassaunce Court a sequence of cars changed gears and accelerated. A paper-seller yelled something indistinguishable and somebody shouted “Taxi!” Nanny’s roughened hands, working together stealthily against her apron, made a faint susurration.
“They used it in their charade,” said Mike. “I heard Frid yelling out for it.”
“The charade?” Alleyn echoed. “Well, never mind. Go on.”
“About the skewer? Well, there’s one thing…”
Mike stopped. His face lost its look of eagerness and, as small boys’ faces can, became extremely blank.
“What’s up?” asked Alleyn.
“I was only wondering. Is the skewer a clue?”
“Anything might be a clue,” said Alleyn carefully.
“I know. Only—”
“Yes?”