“Yes,” answered Liversidge readily enough. “Just as I turned away to go down the dressing-room passage, Alfred Meyer and the head mechanist came down.”

“Did you stay on the stage after that?”

“No. I went on down the passage.”

“Thank you, so much,” said Alleyn. “That, really, was the point we wanted to get at. Now, after the tragedy, when we cleared the stage — where did you go?”

“I stood with all the others by the entrance to the passage. That was while Hailey was shepherding the guests out. Then I went to the dressing-room.”

“Anyone else there when you arrived?”

“Yes. Branny and poor old Court. He felt very shaken. Branny was giving him a nip.”

“Were you among the last to leave the stage?”

“I suppose I was. I think we were the last.”

“Who was with you?”

“Oh — Val Gaynes.”

“Did you have a second conversation?”

“Just about the tragedy,” said Liversidge. “I left her at her dressing-room door. She went on to the wardrobe-room, I think.”

“Now, Mr. Liversidge, can you tell me if anyone remained on the stage after you left it.”

“Hailey Hambledon went back to — to where you were after the guests had gone.”

“Yes, yes, I know. I don’t mean the actual stage within the scenery but the area, off-stage. Did anyone stay behind, off-stage?”

“I didn’t notice anyone do so,” said Liversidge.

“Right. Now about this scene in the wardrobe-room. Had Master Gordon Palmer spoken to you about his curious theories?”

Liversidge passed his rather coarse and very white hand over his gleaming head.

“He — well, he did say something about it. Sort of mentioned it, don’t you know. I was astounded. I simply can’t believe it of dear old Court. Simply can not credit it.” Mr. Liversidge added that Courtney Broadhead was a white man, a phrase that Alleyn had never cared for and of which he was heartily tired.

“I wish,” he said, “that you would repeat as much of the conversation as you can remember. How did it begin?”

Liversidge hesitated for some time.

“Never mind,” said Alleyn, “about getting it quite correct. We can get Gordon Palmer’s version too, you know.”

This was far from having a reassuring effect on Mr. Liversidge. He darted a glance full of the liveliest distaste at Alleyn, made several false starts, and finally bent forward with an air of taking them into his confidence.

“Now look, Inspector,” he said earnestly, “this is damned awkward for me. You see someone had said something about Val’s money to both Gordon and me, and Gordon afterwards asked me what I thought was the true story. That was just after poor old Court had paid up. Well, I said — not meaning Gordon to take it up seriously — just as a joke — I mean I never dreamt he’d think for a moment—” Mr. Liversidge waved his hands.

“Yes?” said Alleyn.

“Gad, I wouldn’t have had it happen for the world. I said — laughing — something about—‘Well — Court’s suddenly flush — p’raps he’s the dirty-dog.’ Something like that. I mean, never dreaming—”

“Did you pursue this joke?” asked Alleyn.

“Well, don’t you know, chaffingly,” explained Liversidge. “What!”

“My God,” thought Alleyn, “it’s supposed to be Oxford, that language.” Aloud he said: “Did you also talk about the attempt on Mr. Meyer in the train?”

“In point of fact — yes. It was all meant for comedy, you know. I just said, all laughingly, that perhaps Alfred Meyer had caught him at it, and he’d tried to tip him overboard. Well, I mean to say! When I heard Gordon to-night! Well, of course! I was flabbergasted!”

“Did you have any further joking references tonight — after the fatality?” inquired Alleyn, evenly.

“My dear Mr. Alleyn!” expostulated Liversidge, greatly shocked.

“No reference of any sort?”

“Actually, do you know, Gordon did say something to me in the passage. I don’t remember what it was. I was too shocked and grieved to pay attention. I think he just said something about, did I remember what we had talked about.”

“I see,” said Alleyn. “Mr. Liversidge, do you know at what time during our train journey the attempt on Mr. Meyer was made?”

“Er? Let me see, let me see. Do I remember? Yes — it was sometime before we got to that place where we stopped for refreshments. Isn’t that right? I remember the dear old governor telling us about it. Poor old governor! It’s hard to realise—”

“Frightfully hard, isn’t it! Now before we reached that station — Ohakune — the guard came through the train chanting an announcement.”

“So he did.”

“Were you awake or did he wake you?”

“He woke me.”

“Had you been asleep for long?”

“Ages. I dropped off soon after Val went along to her sleeper.”

“Do you remember that you were disturbed by anyone getting up and leaving the carriage before the guard went through?”

“Didn’t Court Broadhead go out to the platform? I seem to remember — good God, old man, I don’t mean — you can’t mean—!”

“I don’t mean anything at all, Mr. Liversidge,” said Alleyn. “Nobody else?”

“I don’t think so. No.”

“Thank you. Now about the greenstone tiki. We are anxious to trace it if possible. Miss Dacres has lost it.”

“Is it valuable?”

“It is rather, I imagine.”

“Well, you ought to know,” said Liversidge.

“Quite so. Do you remember handling it?”

“Certainly,” said Liversidge with huffy dignity. “I also remember returning it.”

“To whom?”

“To — to Branny, I think. Yes, it was to Branny. And he gave it to Carolyn and she put it on the table. I remember that quite well.”

“Whereabouts on the table?”

“At the end on the O.P. side. It was before we sat down. Funny me remembering.”

“Do you remember anyone picking it up from the table?”

“No. No, I don’t.”

“Have you any theory,” asked Alleyn abruptly, “about the disappearance of Miss Gaynes’s money?”

“I? Lord, no! I should think very likely a steward pinched it.”

“It’s happened before,” agreed Alleyn. “She seems to have been pretty casual about her cash.”

“Casual! God, she’s hopeless. Fancy leaving a packet of tenners in an open suit-case. Well, of course!”

“All in tenners, was it?” asked Alleyn absently.

“I think so. She told me so.”

Wade cleared his throat.

“I seem to remember,” continued Alleyn vaguely, “that she said something about paying you a tenner she’d lost at poker. When did she do that?”

“On the last night we were in the ship. After we’d finished playing. Actually it was about one o’clock in the morning.”

“She still had her money then, evidently.”

“Yes.”

“She got this tenner from the hoard in the suitcase, did she?”

“I–I think so. Yes, she did.”

“You saw her, did you, Mr. Liversidge?”

“Well — not exactly. I walked along to her cabin and waited outside in the corridor. She came out and gave me the tenner. I didn’t know, then, where she got it from.”

“You couldn’t see her?”

“No, I couldn’t. Damn it all, Alleyn, what’s the idea of all this?”

“No offence in the world. Good night, Mr. Liversidge.”

“Eh?”

“Good night,” repeated Alleyn cheerfully.

Liversidge stared uncomfortably at him and then got to his feet. Wade made a movement and was checked by a glint in Alleyn’s eye.

“Well, so long,” said Mr. Liversidge and went away.

“Let him go,” said Alleyn when the door had slammed, “let him go. He’s so uncomfortable and fidgety. You can get him again when he’s spent a beastly night. He’ll do very nicely for the time being. Let him go.”