A deep snarl, like the snarl of a wild beast, was the man’s only answer. It alarmed George, who withdrew prudently towards the window.

“When did you see your master last?”

“His Highness retired to bed at half-past ten. I slept, as always, in the anteroom next to him. He must have gone down to the room downstairs by the other door, the door that gave on to the corridor. I did not hear him go. It may be that I was drugged. I have been an unfaithful servant, I slept while my master woke. I am accursed.”

George gazed at him, fascinated.

“You loved your master, eh?” said Battle, watching the man closely.

Boris’s features contracted painfully. He swallowed twice. Then his voice came, harsh with emotion.