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had travelled light. I returned to the book on the bedside table and examined it to see if it was one of devotions. But it was a translation from the German of Goethe’s travels in Italy. It occurred to me that I had seen no religious texts of any sort among the books. The lodger had not been drawn to a Quaker house because he was a man of deep personal faith.
    I was beginning to be intrigued by the character of Mr Tapley. His meagre belongings suggested a man of few means, but he had found the money to buy books and pay his rent. Was he, perhaps, in receipt of some small pension? Did he enjoy the income from a small sum wisely invested?
    I left the room and investigated the rest of the passageway. Mrs Jameson’s bedroom was a large room at the back. The view over the yard was uninteresting but the room offered more privacy than one overlooking the street and would also, I conjectured, let in the morning sunshine. A marble-topped washstand here was twin to the one in Tapley’s room.
    By what route did Jenny bring up the morning’s hot water? I completed my exploration to the far shadowy end of the passage and found a narrow iron spiral staircase that must lead down to the kitchen. If Tapley’s murderer had come in via the kitchen, then he would have used this spiral stair to access the upper floor and to make his escape.
    I went back to the victim’s sitting room, where Harper still knelt above the victim, He was slowly working around the upper body. As I watched, he cupped the victim’s jaw and moved the head a fraction. The doctor then sat back, balanced on his heels, his hands hanging loose above his knees, staring thoughtfully at poor Tapley. I took my notebook from my pocket. I drew a careful diagram showing the position of all the furniture in the room and the body. I also made one of the first floor with its two points of access from below. I was putting the finishing touches to this when Harper sighed and stood up.
    ‘Well, Inspector, your man was killed by at least two heavy blows to the back of the skull by the usual blunt instrument, something like a jemmy, for example.’ His tone was matter-of-fact.
    ‘A jemmy !’ I exclaimed. Were we, after all, looking for a burglar? This short, solid iron bar was the standard tool of the housebreaking fraternity, prising open windows, doors, locked boxes, anything needing to be forced. It went without saying it doubled as a useful weapon if the villain was cornered. But housebreakers are cautious coves nowadays, since burglary alone no longer leads to an appointment with the hangman. Tapley had been a frail man and a good shove would have pushed him over without further violence. I frowned. No, a housebreaker would not go out of his way to creep up on an unsuspecting old gentleman, sitting in a chair reading. All the fatal blows were to the back of the cranium. If Tapley had heard the intruder, had jumped up and confronted him, he would have been struck on the front or side of the head. The assailant would then have fled. If, on the other hand, Tapley had not heard him open the door, if the intruder had spotted Tapley engrossed in his book and oblivious, the burglar would have closed it quietly again and made good his escape.
Constable Butcher had examined the ground-floor windows, something I’d failed to do before I left for the Yard, and I believed him when he said none was forced. Butcher was a man of experience who would have been called to numerous breakins. He wouldn’t make a mistake over a thing like that. It all confirmed the theory that the intruder had slipped through an unsecured window or door, probably in the kitchen.
    ‘I only use “jemmy” as an example,’ explained Harper. ‘Something weighty enough to do a lot of damage at a single blow. I would say considerable force was used, more than required.’
    ‘Can you give me a time of death?’ I asked.
    Harper allowed himself a small, professional smile. ‘My dear Inspector Ross, you know as