‘I think he does, however. She was one of his guests in the Kalliope at the time of the disaster. One of the few to escape if I remember rightly.’

‘Wait a bit. There’s something. Wait a bit.’

‘With pleasure.’

‘No, but it’s just I’ve remembered – it might not be of the smallest significance – but I have remembered one incident, during rehearsals when Conducis came in to tell me we could use the theatre for publicity. Harry walked in here while we were talking. He was as bright as a button, as usual, and not at all disconcerted. He greeted Mr Conducis like a long lost uncle, asked him if he’d been yachting lately and said something like: remember him to Mrs G. Of course there are a thousand and one Mrs G.’s but when you mentioned the yacht –’

‘Yes, indeed. How did Conducis take this?’

‘Like he takes everything. Dead pan.’

‘Any idea what the obligation was that Grove seems to have laid upon him?’

‘Not a notion.’

‘Blackmail by any chance, would you think?’

‘Ah, no! And Conducis is not a queer in my opinion if that’s what you’re working up to. Nor, good lord, is Harry! And nor, I’m quite sure, is Harry a blackmailer. He’s a rum customer and he’s a bloody nuisance in a company. Like a wasp. But I don’t believe he’s a bad lot. Not really.’

‘Why?’

Peregrine thought for a moment. ‘I suppose,’ he said at last, with an air of surprise, ‘that it must be because, to me, he really is funny. When he plays up in the theatre I become furious and go for him like a pick-pocket and then he says something outrageous that catches me on the hop and makes me want to laugh.’ He looked from Alleyn to Fox. ‘Has either of you,’ Peregrine asked, ‘ever brought a clown like Harry to book for murder?’

Alleyn and Fox appeared severally to take glimpses into their professional pasts.

‘I can’t recall,’ Fox said, cautiously, ‘ever finding much fun in a convicted homicide, can you, Mr Alleyn?’

‘Not really,’ Alleyn agreed, ‘but I hardly think the presence or absence of the Comic Muse can be regarded as an acid test.’

Peregrine, for the first time, looked amused.

‘Did you,’ Alleyn said, ‘know that Mr Grove is distantly related to Mr Conducis?’

‘I did NOT,’ Peregrine shouted. ‘Who told you this?’

‘He did.’

‘You amaze me. It must be a tarradiddle. Though, of course,’ Peregrine said, after a long pause, ‘it would account for everything. Or would it?’

‘Everything?’

‘The mailed fist of management. The recommendation for him to be cast.’

‘Ah, yes. What’s Grove’s background, by the way?’

‘He refers to himself as an Old Borstalian but I don’t for a moment suppose it’s true. He’s a bit of an inverted snob, is Harry.’

‘Very much so, I’m sure.’