Riley looked at him and pursed his lips. "You'd better get some dry clothes on and a stiff tot of whisky, and then a dish of hot gruel," he said, shaking his head. "Or you'll have pneumonia yourself, and probably for nothing. I doubt we can save the poor devil." Pity altered his face in the lantern light, making him look gaunt and vulnerable. "Nothing I can do for the other one. He's the undertaker's job, and yours, of course. Good luck to you. You'll need it, around here. God knows what happened or perhaps it would be more appropriate to say the devil does." And with that he climbed in behind his patient. "Mortuary van'll come for the other one," he added as if an afterthought. "I'm taking this one to St. Thomas's. You can enquire after him there. I don't suppose you have any idea who he is?”

"Not yet," Evan answered, although he knew they might never have.

Riley closed the door and banged on the wall for the driver to proceed, and the ambulance pulled away.

The mortuary van took its place and the other body was removed, leaving Evan and Shotts alone in the alley.

"It's light enough to look," Evan said grimly. "I suppose we might find something. Then we'll start searching for witnesses. What happened to the woman who raised the alarm?”

"Daisy Mott. I know where ter finder Daytime in the match fact'ry, nights in that block o' rooms over there, number sixteen," he gestured with his left arm. "Don't suppose she can tell us much. If them what done this 'd bin 'ere when she come, they'd 'a killed 'er too, no doubt.”

"Yes, I suppose so," Evan agreed reluctantly. "Since she screamed, they'd have silenced her at least. What about old Briggs, who fetched you?”

"E don't know nothin'. I askedim.”

Evan began to widen his search, further away from where the two bodies had been, walking very slowly, eyes down on the ground. He did not know what he was looking for, anything someone might have dropped, a mark, a further bloodstain. There must be other bloodstains!