Apart from the files of the firm's current staff, he had also obtained those of the staff who had left between the death of Robert Aimhurst and the murder of Clive Barstaple. He was thankful there had been no more than three such departures, thankful, too, that, having reached the superstitiously significant figure of three deaths they must now have reached the week's total cadaver tally. It was a comforting thought and one he confided to Llewellyn as he arrived with the canteen tea. “I know that with its two corpses, yesterday was decidedly gutty, but let's look on the bright side. We're three corpses up and should be safe from any more—for this week at least.” As the Welshman didn't share his superstitious beliefs, Rafferty was surprised when, after putting the tea down on the desk, Llewellyn nodded and remarked, “Yesterday was a Dismal Day, so-” “You can say that again,” Rafferty broke in and waved at his office window and the sodden grey sky. “And, weather-wise at least, it doesn't look as if today's going to be any better.
