Rice, the head porter, confirmed that if the ordinary routine of the hotel had been carried out – and he was certain it had been – then Young Ellis would have started on his rounds about half past four, reaching the second floor and Room 206 around twenty to five. The murder, said Rice, pulling at his walrus moustache meditatively, fixed the day in his memory. If there had been anything out of the way, he would have remembered it, sure as eggs were eggs. Sir Douglas Lynton, Assistant Commissioner of Scotland Yard, also pulled at his moustache, but in his case it was irritation rather than thoughtful reflection that was the chief emotion. ‘Damn it, I thought it was an open and shut case!’ He glared at Rackham and Haldean. ‘You’re absolutely convinced of the facts? Carrington couldn’t have shot Dunbar after the letter was delivered, I suppose?’ ‘Absolutely, sir,’ said Rackham with a glance at Jack. This was a possibility they had explored earlier. ‘Mrs Lewis confirms that Carrington met her at the Lyon’s in Leicester Square just after five.
