‘It is perfectly clearly to be seen,’ Ormerin said loudly, ‘what is the view of the police. This gentleman, Mr Alleyn, who is so quiet and so polite, who waits in silence for us to make fools of ourselves—he knows as each of us must know in his heart that the murderer of this girl was present in the studio on the morning we made the experiment with the dagger. That declares itself. There is no big motive that sticks out like a bundle in a haystack, so Mr Alleyn sits and says nothing and hears much. And we—we talk.’

‘Mr Ormerin,’ said Alleyn, ‘you draw up the blinds on my technique, and leave it blinking foolishly in the light of day. I see that I may be silent no longer.’

‘Ah-ah-ah! It is as I have said.’ Ormerin wagged his head sideways, shrugged up his shoulders and threw himself back in his chair. ‘But as for this murder—it is the crime passionnel, depend upon it. The girl was very highly sexed.’

‘That doesn’t necessarily lead to homicide,’ Alleyn pointed out, with a smile.

‘She was jealous,’ said Ormerin; ‘she was yellow with jealousy and chagrin. Every time Garcia looks at Seacliff she suffers as if she is ill. And when Pilgrim announces that he is affianced with Seacliff, again Sonia feels as if a knife is twisted inside her.’

‘That’s absolute bosh,’ said Basil Pilgrim violently. ‘You don’t know what you are talking about, Ormerin.’

‘Do I not? She was avid for men, that little one.’

‘Dear me,’ murmured Malmsley, ‘this all sounds very Montmartre.’

‘She certainly was a hot little dame,’ said Hatchett.

‘It was apparent,’ added Ormerin. ‘And when a more compelling—more troublante—woman arrived, she became quite frantic. Because Seacliff—’

‘Will you keep Valmai’s name out of this?’ shouted Pilgrim.

‘Basil, darling, how divinely county you are,’ said Valmai Seacliff. ‘I know she was jealous of me. We all know she was. And she obviously was very attracted to you, my sweet.’

‘This conversation,’ said Troy, ‘seems slightly demented. All this, if it was true, might mean that Sonia would feel like killing Valmai or Pilgrim or Garcia, but why should anybody kill her?’

‘Closely reasoned,’ murmured Alleyn. Troy threw a suspicious glance at him.

‘It is true, is it not,’ insisted Ormerin, ‘that you suspect one of us?’

‘Or Garcia,’ said Katti Bostock.

‘Yes, there’s always the little tripe-hound,’ agreed Seacliff.

‘And the servants,’ added Malmsley.

‘Very well,’ amended Ormerin, still talking to Alleyn. ‘You suspect one of this party, or Garcia, or—if you will—the servants.’

‘An inside job,’ said Hatchett, proud of the phrase.