‘I suppose so,’ Peregrine said, rubbing his hand across his face. ‘Yes. Yes, we can do something about it.’

‘We’ve removed the bronze dolphin.’

Peregrine told himself that he mustn’t think about that. He must keep in the right gear and, Oh God, he mustn’t be sick.

He muttered: ‘Have you? I suppose so. Yes.’

Mr Greenslade said: ‘If there’s nothing more one can do – ’ and stood up. ‘One has to inform Mr Conducis,’ he sighed and was evidently struck by a deadly thought. ‘The Press!’ he cried. ‘My God, the Press!’

‘The Press,’ Alleyn rejoined, ‘is in full lurk outside the theatre. We have issued a statement to the effect that a night-watchman at The Dolphin has met with a fatal accident but that there is no further indication at the moment of how this came about.’

‘That won’t last long,’ Mr Greenslade grunted as he struggled into his overcoat. He gave Alleyn his telephone number, gloomily told Peregrine he supposed they would be in touch and took his leave.

‘I shan’t keep you any longer,’ Alleyn said to Peregrine. ‘But I shall want to talk to all the members of the cast and staff during the day. I see there’s a list of addresses and telephone numbers here. If none of them objects I shall ask them to come here to The Dolphin, rather than call on them severally. It will save time.’

‘Shall I tell them?’

‘That’s jolly helpful of you but I think it had better be official.’

‘Oh. Oh, yes. Of course.’

‘I expect you’ll want to tell them what’s happened and warn them they’ll be needed but we’ll organize the actual interviews. Eleven o’clock this morning, perhaps.’

‘I must be with them,’ Peregrine said. ‘If you please.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Alleyn said. ‘Good night.’

Peregrine thought absently that he had never seen a face so transformed by a far from excessive smile. Quite heartened by this phenomenon he held out his hand.

‘Good night,’ he said, ‘there’s one saving grace at last in all this horror.’

‘Yes?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Peregrine said warmly and looked at a small glove and two scraps of writing that lay before Alleyn on Winter Morris’s desk. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘if they had been lost I really think I might have gone completely bonkers. You – you will take care of them?’

‘Great care,’ Alleyn said.

When Peregrine had gone Alleyn sat motionless and silent for so long that Fox was moved to clear his throat.

Alleyn bent over the treasure. He took a jeweller’s eye-glass out of his pocket. He inserted a long index finger in the glove and turned back the gauntlet. He examined the letters HS and then the seams of the glove and then the work on the back.

‘What’s up, Mr Alleyn?’ Fox asked. ‘Anything wrong?’

‘Oh, my dear Br’er Fox, I’m afraid so. I’m afraid there’s no saving grace in this catastrophe, after all, for Peregrine Jay.’