“We do indeed. How long is two shakes, Bob?”

“Eh? Oh! See what you mean. Well now, sir. As we goes in everybody was just asking where was Miss Carolyn. So Mr. Hambledon and the guv’nor and Mr. Mason they went out to get ’er, passing Minna and me in the doorway. And they came back with her almost immediate.”

Alleyn made a sudden brusque movement, leaning forward in his chair.

“Then — Bob, this is important — it’s very important. You can tell me how long it was between the time Miss Dacres came out of her dressing-room and the moment of her entrance with the three men.”

“No time at all, sir. Just a jiffy. They must of met ’er in the passage.”

“And Bob! Could you swear that she came straight off the stage and didn’t leave her room till she went in to the party?”

“Yes, sir. ’Course I could. Didn’t I tell you I was—”

“Yes, yes, I know. It’s all perfectly splendid. Now for Mr. Hambledon—”

“Same for ’im, sir. Look ’ere, sir, I’m fly to what you’re after. You want to know who went up aloft after the guv’nor come down. That’s a fact, now, isn’t it, sir?”

“It is, Bob.”

“Well, sir, it wasn’t Miss Carolyn or Mr. Hambledon — physical imposs., sir. They both come straight orf after the curtain call. I see them. And they never come out of their rooms till they goes to the party, and they goes straight to the party. I’ll take me Bible oaf on it, kiss the book, and face the judge. Can’t say fairer than that now, can I, sir?”

“No. It’s good enough. Is there any way out from the dressing-rooms except past the doorway where you were standing?”

“No fear, sir. Not bloody likely, if you’ll excuse the expression, sir. Beats me they don’t have the fire inspectors down on them. There’s just the two rows of dressing-rooms downstairs, with the wardrobe-room at the end. The two star-rooms and Miss Max’s room all open orf the passage. Then it goes round at right angles with the wardrobe-room on the right and the three other dressing-rooms on the left.”

“Yes. I know.”

“Yes. So that Mr. Comedy Ackroyd’s room runs behind the two star-rooms and Miss Max’s. Suits ’im a fair treat; ’e can do ’is nosey-parkering nice with them wooden walls. I went to ’is room only the day we got ’ere, and there ’e was, standing on the table with ’is shell-like glued to the wall and ’is eyes shut, tuned in to Miss Carolyn and my gentleman what were ’aving a little pass-the-time-o’-day next door. Never saw me, ’e didn’t, but when I goes back I calls arht to Miss Carolyn they’re getting near ’er entrance and she comes away, see? Mr. Saint John Ackroyd!”

Alleyn remembered Ackroyd’s version of this incident and chuckled appreciatively.

“And there’s no door at the far end of this back passage?”

“No, sir. Only a little window. All gummed up with dirt and cobwebs.”

“Big enough for someone to get through?”

“ ’Ave to be very small, sir, and then it’d be a squeeze.”

“I’ll have a look at it. Thank you very much, Bob. Nobody ever calls you Mr. Parsons, do they?”

“Lord love you, sir, I sometimes forget I got another moniker. Might almost be an iggyliterate if you’ll excuse the bit of fun. Going, sir?”

“Yes — I won’t keep you any longer. It’s after hours so we can’t have a drink, but if you’ll allow me—”

“Well, sir, that’s very kind of you, but I’m sure I don’t want anything. If it’s a case of my gentleman, and looking after ’im, well I’m used to doing that and it’s a pleasure.”

“I’m sure it is, but don’t make me feel uncomfortable, Bob. Just to show you bear me no ill-will.”

“If you put it like that, sir — well, thank you very much, sir. Good night, sir, and I’m sure I hope you get the bloke. He was a very fair man, was the late guv’nor. Carn’t fancy ’ow anyone would want to bash ’is nut in, even if it was with liquor, which is a classy way of ’anding in your notice. I always says—”

Alleyn listened to a somewhat discursive reminiscence and at last got away. He had arranged to meet Wade at the theatre and found the inspector waiting for him.

“Well, Mr. Alleyn. Any luck with the dresser?”

“Quite a purple patch.”

Alleyn related the gist of the information.

“By cripes!” said Wade. “That’s something to get our teeth into. How did the man strike you, sir? Reliable?”

“I think so. He’s a type that will disappear before long I’m afraid — the real undiluted cockney. Undersized, sharp as they make them, loyal, independent, and violently opinionated. You should hear him on the subject of Ackroyd. We’ll be able to check his statements, I think. I timed his cigarette — sixteen minutes — he had to keep re-lighting it. The whistled song took three minutes so that takes us to a quarter to eleven. He made and lit another cigarette, which he put out before joining the party — say three more minutes, which would mean twelve minutes to eleven when he left the passage. Now when everyone started asking for Miss Dacres, Mr. Meyer looked at his watch and said: ‘It’s ten to — time she was making an entrance,’ and about two minutes later she appeared. If Bob Parsons was in the passage all that time, she can’t have done it.”

“Unless he’s fixing an alibi for her, or for Hambledon.”

“We’ll have to check his statement, of course. But if all these people remember talking to him it’ll be good enough. Personally, I was favourably impressed with him.”

Wade stared solemnly at Alleyn and then swore violently.

“Good heavens, Wade, what’s the matter?”

“Here!” said Wade. “If all he said is right, it— Look here, Mr. Alleyn, don’t you see what it means?”

“Oh, rather, yes. It washes out the whole bang lot of ’em at one fell swoop. Tiresome for you. Unless of course the little window—”

“We’ll go right along and have a look at the little window. By gosh, talk about eliminating! This is a bit too sudden. What about Liversidge?”

“Bang he goes,” said Alleyn.

“Liversidge — with everything pointing that way!

“Not only that. Liversidge, Broadhead, the wife and Hambledon. Mason tied up with enough alibis to blow holes in a cast-iron case! Come on, sir. Come on. We’ll have a damn’ good look at this little window.

Chapter XXI

BUSINESS WITH PROPS

But the little window at the back of the dressing-room passage turned out to be exactly as Bob had described it — dirty and gummed up with cobwebs — and Wade turned to Alleyn with an air of disgruntled incredulity.

“It’s a case of ‘where do we go for honey,’ isn’t it, Wade?” asked Alleyn smiling.

“I’ll see this Bob Parsons as soon as we get out of this,” said Wade. “If anyone’s squared him I’ll shake it out of him if I have to go at it all night.”

“It’s possible, of course,” agreed Alleyn, “but look at it for a minute. Suppose Liversidge is the murderer. Liversidge plans to take off the weight. Instead of slipping round, unseen, to the back ladder after the last curtain, which would have been comparatively easy, he goes first to his dressing-room, knowing that he must come out again almost immediately into the brightly-lit narrow passage, where any of the others may be hanging about. Well, he risks that and comes out to find Parsons directly in his way. He knows that Parsons will see him go up to the back of the stage — knows, in short, that he is a man who can hang him. He decides to risk all this on the chance of bribing or corrupting the man. Do you think he’d do it? I don’t. And the same argument applies to Miss Dacres. To all the rest of the cast for that matter. I think when you see Parsons you will agree that he is not a corruptible type. Check his statement by all means, my dear chap, but I feel certain he is speaking the truth. And now let us have a look at the back of the theatre.”

“The back of the theatre, sir?”

“Yes. When I chased round on the trail of Master Palmer, I thought of something that may be of interest. Come across the stage, will you?”