“Me?” asked Colin. “Oh, I just stayed in the drawing-room with Henry and my father.”

“What did you talk about?”

“I didn’t. I looked at a Punch.”

“Henry said: ‘Have they gone?’ and my father said ‘Yes,’ and Henry said ‘Three rousing cheers.’ I don’t think anybody said anything else until Aunt V. started yelling, and then Henry said; ‘Is that a fire engine or do they ring bells?’ and my father said ‘It’s a woman,’ and Henry said: ‘How revolting!’ and my father said: ‘It’s coming from the lift,’ and Henry said: ‘Then it must be Aunt V. and she’s coming back.’ It had got a good deal nearer by then. I think Henry said ‘How revolting!’ again and then my father said; ‘Something has happened,’ and went out of the room. Henry said: ‘She’s gone completely crackers, it seems. Come on.’ So he went out. My mother and Frid and, I think, Patch, were on the landing and the lift was up. Stephen opened the doors and came out. He held the doors back. Aunt V. came screeching out. The rest of it’s rather a muddle and I daresay you’ve heard it already.”

“I should like to know when your brother decided to take up the option on your agreement.”

“I didn’t want—” Stephen began.

“Shut up,” said Colin. “While they were all fussing round and ringing up doctors and policemen Stephen said: ‘I’m going to be sick,’ so I went with him and he was. And then we went to my room and he told me all about it. And I said that if anything cropped up like you, and so on, the arrangement would be good. Stephen said he didn’t want me to crash in on the party but I did, of course, as you know. That’s all.”

“Thank you,” said Alleyn. Colin lit a cigarette.

“I suppose I say what happened in the lift,” said Stephen.

“If you will,” Alleyn agreed. “From the time Lady Charles came to the drawing-room.”

Stephen played a little tattoo with his fingers on the table. His movements as well as his speech, Alleyn noticed were much more staccato than his twin’s. Colin had spoken with a deliberation so marked as to seem studied. He had looked placidly at Alleyn through his light eyelashes. Stephen spoke in spurts; his stutter became increasingly marked; he kept glancing at Alleyn and away again. Fox’s notes seemed to disturb him.

“My mother,” Stephen said, “asked for someone t-to work the lift. So I went out.”

“To the lift?”

“Yes.”

“Who was in the lift?”

“He was. Sitting there.”

“With the doors shut?”

“Yes.”

“Who opened them?”

“I did. Aunt V. was sort of hovering about on the landing. When I opened the d-doors she tacked over and floated in.”

“And then? Did you follow at once?”

“Well, I stopped long enough to wink at my mother and then I got in and s-simply t-took the lift down—”

“Just a moment. What were Lord and Lady Wutherwood’s positions in the lift?”

“He was sitting in the corner. His hat was on and his scarf pulled up and his c-coat collar turned up. I — th-thought he was asleep.”

“Asleep? But a minute or so before, he had shouted at the top of his voice.”

“Well, asleep or sulking. As a matter of fact, I rather thought he was s-sulking.”

“Why should he do that?”

“He was a sulky sort of man. Aunt V. had kept him waiting.”

“Did you notice his hat?”

“It was a poisonous hat.”

“Anything in particular about it?”

“Only that it looked as if it belonged to a bum. As a matter of fact I couldn’t see him very well. Aunt V. — Violet stood b-between us and the light wasn’t on.”

“Was she facing him?”

“N-no. Facing the doors.”

“Right. And then?”

“Well, I p-pushed the button and we went down.”

“What happened next?”

“When we’d got about half-way d-down, she started screaming. I hadn’t looked at either of those two. I just heard the scream and jumped like hell and sort of automatically shoved down the stop button. So we stopped. We were nearly down. Just below the first floor.”

“Yes?”

“Well, of course, I turned round. I didn’t see Uncle G. She was between us, with her b-back to me, yelling in a disgusting sort of way. It was b-beastly. As sudden as a train whistle. I’ve always hated t-train whistles. She moved away a bit and I l-looked and s-saw him.”

“What did you see?”

“You know what it was.”

“Not exactly. I should like an exact description.”

Stephen moistened his lips and passed his fingers across his face. “Well,” he said, “he was sitting there. I remember now that there was a dent in his hat. She had hold of him and she sort of sh-shook him and he s-sort of t-tipped forward. His head was between his knees and his hat fell off. Then she pulled him up. And then I s-saw.”

“What did you see? I’m sorry,” said Alleyn, “but it really is important and Lady Wutherwood’s description was not very clear. I want a clear picture.”

“I wish,” said Stephen violently, “that I hadn’t got one. I c-can’t — Col, tell him I c-can’t — it was t-too beastly.”

“Do you know,” said Alleyn, “I think there’s something in the theory that it’s a mistake to bury a very bad experience. The Ancient Mariner’s idea was a sound one. In describing something unpleasant you get rid of part of its unpleasantness.”

“Unp-pleasant! My God, the skewer was jutting out of his eye and blood running down his face into his mouth. He made noises like an animal.”

“Was there any other injury to his face?” Alleyn asked.

Stephen put his face in his hands. His voice was muffled. “Yes. The side of his head. Something. I saw that when — I saw it!” His fingers moved to his own temple. “There.”

“Yes. What did you do?”

“I had my hand near the thing — the switchboard — you kn-know. I must have p-pushed the top b-button. I don’t think I did it on purpose. I d-don’t know. We went up. She was screaming. When I opened the d-doors she sort of fell out. That’s all.” Stephen gripped the edge of the table and for the first time looked steadily at Alleyn. “I’m sorry I’m not clearer,” he said. “I don’t know why I’m like this. I’ve been all right t-till now. I even sort of wondered why I was so all right.”

“Shock,” said Alleyn, “seems to have a period of incubation with some people. Now, as you went down in the lift you faced the switchboard?”

“Yes.”

“All the time?”

“Yes.”

“Did you hear any sort of movement behind you?”

“I d-don’t remember hearing anything at all. It’s not long, is it?”

“It’s precisely thirty seconds to the bottom,” said Alleyn. “You don’t go all the way. Did you hear any sort of thud?”

“If I did, I don’t remember it.”

“All right. To go back a little. While your father interviewed Lord Wutherwood, you were all in here, lying on the carpet in that corner.”

Stephen and Colin exchanged glances. Colin silently framed the word “Patch” with his lips.

“No,” said Alleyn. “Lady Patricia only told us you lay on the floor. She said it was a kind of game. We noticed it took place in that corner where a door has been boarded up. There’s a trace of lip-stick on the carpet close to the crack under the door and a bit of boot polish farther out. It’s difficult to avoid the presumption that your game involved listening to the conversation next door.”

“I say,” said Stephen suddenly, “do you speak French? Yes, I suppose you do. Yes, of course you do.”

“Shut up,” said Colin.

“I haven’t been lying on the carpet,” said Alleyn. “And Mr. Fox only stayed there long enough to catch a phrase, spoken. I think, by you. ‘Taisez-vous, donc’!”

“He’s always saying it,” Stephen muttered gloomily. “In English or in French.”

“And a fat lot of notice you take,” Colin pointed out. “If you’d only—”

“We won’t go into that,” said Alleyn. “Now, when this unusual game was ended, and after your brother Michael had come in, you two, with your elder brother, went into the drawing-room, while your sisters went into Flat 26. Did you go together and directly into the drawing-room?”