John Ross looked quite a pitiful creature as he sat at the table in the interview room. His solicitor, Miles Burrows, hired that morning by his mother, sat beside him, with Inspector Bell beckoning me to sit next to himself on the opposite side of the table. A police sergeant was also present in the room to operate the tape recorder which was used to record the interview and was now a part of standard police procedure.
Ross’s clothes had been taken away for forensic examination, and he was dressed in a simple one-piece boiler-suit type garment provided by the police. He was the smallest man in the room, though his size belied a sinewy strength gained from many hours spent working out at his local gymnasium. I had held four consultations with him in recent months, and had diagnosed him as
