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"It is kyphi, the sacred kyphi of the Ancient Egyptian temples. Its production is the result of many years of experiment upon the formula of Dioscorides. I am the only man in modern times who has succeeded in producing it. As to why I burn it, I burn it during the Rites."

The surgeon shook his head, staring inquiringly at Chief Inspector Firth. "Probably you will want to check the dead man's possessions," he said. "The cause of death is perfectly clear, of course. He seems to have been lifted up, lifted bodily up, and cast down, head first, upon the paving—an operation which, in the case of a powerful man—and I should say he was a fairly powerful man—would have created a tremendous disturbance."

"There was no such disturbance, doctor," murmured Lord Marcus. "He cannot have sustained that frightful injury in my house."

"Certainly, I can find no evidence of a struggle in the lobby; but I can account for his condition in no other way—unless of course he met his death elsewhere. There is nothing to suggest, however, that he was knocked down in the street for instance. His clothing bears no trace of grease or mud."