“Can’t you do anything about it?”

“I’ve seen half the men in Harley Street. I wonder if Te Pokiha would know anything? Some of these natives — Are you going?”

“I must get on. I promised I’d look in at the police station. Thank you so much, Mr. Mason.”

Alleyn walked up the hill to the police station, where he found Wade and Superintendent Nixon. He gave them a full account of his interview with Carolyn and with Mason. Wade was inclined to be skeptical about Carolyn, until he heard the story of Liversidge.

“It looks the most promising thing we’ve got hold of up to date,” he said. “If he thought Meyer suspected him he’d have the motive before they got on the train. I reckon it’s almost good enough for a warrant, Super.”

“What do you think, Mr. Alleyn?” asked Nixon.

“I think I’d hold off a bit,” said Alleyn. “If you both agree I’ll look up Liversidge and see if I can get the delicious creature to bare his nasty little soul for me. Perhaps, Mr. Nixon, you would prefer to tackle this bit yourself?”

“No, no,” said Nixon quickly, “we’ll be only too pleased if you’ll carry on with us, won’t we Wade?”

“Too right, sir. I want to look up old Singleton again. The stage-doorkeeper, Mr. Alleyn. He’s always boozy, but he’s a bit less boozy at this time of day.”

“Why not ring up Liversidge and get him to come round now,” suggested Nixon, “and we’ll make a party of it?”

“Wouldn’t that be fun!” said Alleyn grimly. “All right. Let’s.”

Nixon telephoned the hotel and spoke to Liversidge, who said he would “toddle over” immediately. Alleyn and Nixon occupied the interval with a peaceful discussion on departmental shop. Liversidge arrived, looking too like a not-so-young actor to be credible.

“This is Mr. Liversidge, Superintendent Nixon,” said Alleyn.

“Good afternoon,” said Liversidge grandly.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Liversidge,” said Nixon. “Will you take a seat? As you know, Mr. Alleyn is very kindly working with us on this case. He has one or two questions he would like to ask you.”

“The indefatigable Mr. Alleyn!” said Liversidge, seating himself gracefully. “And what can I do for Mr. Alleyn? Still worrying about what A said to B when the lights went out, Mr. Alleyn?”

“Ah well,” answered Alleyn. “It’s my job, you know. As you make your apple-pie bed, so you must lie on it. Or about it, as the case may be.”

“I’m afraid that is too deep for me,” rejoined Mr. Liversidge, turning an unlovely parchment colour.

“Haven’t you ever made an apple-pie bed, Mr. Liversidge?”

“Really!” said Liversidge. “I didn’t come here to discuss practical jokes.”

“You don’t enjoy practical jokes?”

“No.”

“Did you take Miss Gaynes’s money as a practical joke?”

“I simply don’t know what you are talking about.”

“From information received, we learn that you took this money. Wait a moment, Mr. Liversidge. I really should not bother to deny it if I were you. Denials of that sort are inclined to look rather the worse for wear in the face of the sort of evidence we have here. However—” He took out his notebook and pen. “Did you take this money or did you not?”

“I refuse to answer.”

“Right. On the whole the most sensible thing to do. Perhaps I should tell you that after your interview with Mr. Meyer on the day you arrived in Middleton, Mr. Meyer had another interview with Mr. Mason. It was a matter that concerned the Firm, you see.”

“What has Mason—” Liversidge stopped short.

“What has he told us? Simply the gist of what Mr. Meyer told him.”

“It was all a joke. Meyer took it the wrong way. Look here Mr. — Mr. Nixon—”

“You are speaking to Mr. Alleyn, you know,” said Nixon, placidly.

“Yes, but — well then.” He turned, reluctantly, to Alleyn. “It was this way. You must believe me, I swear I’m telling the truth. I’d been ragging Val about the way she left her money lying about. I said she’d have it pinched. She just laughed. It was when she’d got out some notes to pay her poker debts. I went back to the cabin and I — well, I took out the money and filled up the case with — er — with — er — toilet-paper. Just for a joke to make her more careful. That was all. Honestly. Honestly!

“Why didn’t you tell Mr. Meyer this?”

“I tried to but he wouldn’t listen,” said Liversidge, moistening his lips. “He’d got no sense of humour.”

“Pity. Why did you prompt young Palmer to accuse Broadhead of the theft?”

“I didn’t — I didn’t mean it that way. I told you. He took me up all wrong. It was all a joke. Can’t you see it was all a joke?”

“I’ve got no sense of humour, either,” said Alleyn, “but I dare say a jury would laugh till they cried.”

“A jury! My God—”

“Now, Mr. Liversidge,” continued Alleyn, composedly, “the inquest on this case will be held tomorrow. Mr. Mason will, of course, be one of the witnesses. As I expect you know—”

“I don’t know anything about inquests,” interrupted Liversidge, in a hurry.

“Then it will be an interesting experience for you. If you’d like to give us a statement — a true statement— of this affair and we find it has no direct bearing on the murder—”

“The murder! My God, I swear—”

“We may possibly not think it necessary to bring it out in evidence. If, on the other hand, you prefer that the whole thing be left until the inquest—”

“I’ll make a statement,” said Liversidge, and did so there and then, signing it, and taking himself off in extreme disorder.

“You gave him a nice thrashing,” said Nixon appreciatively when Liversidge had gone.

“I still think it looks good enough for a warrant,” said Wade. “We’ve got everything, sir; motive, opportunity — everything. Meyer may even have threatened him with exposure.”

“He may,” agreed Alleyn. “You’re quite right, Wade, but all the same I would like to look up Hambledon’s dresser, Bob Parsons. I can’t help feeling his evidence may be very useful. I think we ought to have it before we crystallise on Liversidge.”

“If Liversidge prompted young Palmer to fake this charge against Broadhead,“ said Nixon, ”it looks as if he’s a more than usual thoroughgoing bad hat.”

“He’s all that,” agreed Alleyn, “but still—”

“Well, if you will, Mr. Alleyn, do go and see Parsons,” said Nixon. “Wade will give you his address.”

Wade produced the address.

Parsons was staying at a boarding-house close to the theatre. Alleyn went there at once, and in an atmosphere of bamboo and aspidistra he had his talk with Hambledon’s dresser.

Bob Parsons was a wisp of a creature with a plaintive face that crinkled into a net of lines when he spoke. His forehead was so crossed with wrinkles that it looked as though it had been wrung out and left to dry and was badly in need of an iron. He had thin nondescript hair, a wide mouth, and a pair of very bright eyes. Alleyn liked the look of him and came directly to the point.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr. Parsons, but as I expect you will have heard, I am investigating this case in association with the local police. I want to ask you a few questions. I believe you may be able to help us very considerably.”

“Will you sit down, sir?”

“Thank you. Will you please tell me, as accurately as possible, what your movements were after Mr. Hambledon told you to go and get ready for the supper-party last night?”

“My movements, sir?”

“Yes.”

“I went into the passage, sir, and watched other people working.”

“Just for a change, what? You mean the stagehands?”

“Correct, sir. I stood in the doorway watching the boys work overtime.”

“You could see most of the stage from the doorway, I suppose?”

“I could, yes.”

“I suppose you’ve no idea what the time was?”

“Yes. I have so, sir. It was ten-twenty-five.”

“Good Lord, how so accurate?”

“Always time the show, sir. I like to know how she runs. We rang down at ten-twenty-five, and I went straight to the dressing-room and Mr. Hambledon came straight off and told me to clear out. ‘You’ll want a clean swaller-and-sigh, sir,’ I said. ‘You’ve got No. 9 all over those.’ ‘Well, I can do that,’ he says, ‘and how about a clean collar and tie for yourself,’ he says. ‘What’s the time?’ So I told him the time — ten-twenty-six — and I went out.”