Death In Shanghai. M J Lee

scratched on the lid, sir. Two words, I think.’ He tilted the lid so that the light shot obliquely across it. ‘The first letter is an “H”, sir. Then, there’s an “A”.’ He brought the lid closer and then moved it away, squinting with his eyes as he did so. ‘Then there seems to be a “T” and an “E”. Spells HATE.’

      ‘Thank you, Stra-chan, even I can work that one out.’

      ‘The next line is not so clear. An “A”, I think. Then an “L” and maybe another “L”. But the last letter is very faint, sir. It’s hard to see down here, sir.’

      ‘“HATE ALL” That is interesting,’ said Danilov.

      ‘A message from the killer, sir?’

      ‘It looks like it, doesn’t it, Stra-chan? Lieutenant Masset, you didn’t notice these scratches?’

      The Lieutenant shrugged his shoulders once more. ‘We thought they were marks from the makers. Not important.’

      ‘I think you were wrong.’ Danilov put his hat back on his head. ‘Let’s get out of here. I need the fresh air of a smoke.’