‘Yes,’ Alleyn said. ‘We got that much out of him. Nothing else you can tell us?’

Peregrine said: ‘Not so far as I can think. But all the same I’ve got a sort of notion that there’s some damn’ thing I’ve forgotten. Some detail.’

‘To do with what? Any idea?’

‘To do with – I don’t know. The boy, I think.’

‘The boy?’

‘I fancy I was thinking about a production of The Cherry Orchard, but – no, it’s gone and I daresay it’s of no consequence.’

Mr Greenslade said: ‘I know this is not your concern, Alleyn, but I hope you don’t mind my raising the point with Jay. I should like to know what happens to the play. Does the season continue? I am unfamiliar with theatrical practice.’

Peregrine said with some acidity: ‘Theatrical practice doesn’t habitually cover the death by violence of one of its employees.’

‘Quite.’

‘But all the same,’ Peregrine said, ‘there is a certain attitude –’

‘Quite. Yes. The – er – “the show”,’ quoted Mr Greenslade selfconsciously, ‘“must go on”.’

‘I think we should go on. The boy’s understudy’s all right. Tomorrow – no, today’s Sunday, which gives us a chance to collect ourselves.’ Peregrine fetched up short and turned to Alleyn. ‘Unless,’ he said, ‘the police have any objection.’

‘It’s a bit difficult to say at this juncture, you know, but we should be well out of The Dolphin by Monday night. Tomorrow night, in fact. You want an answer long before that, of course. I think I may suggest that you carry on as if for performance. If anything crops up to change the situation we shall let you know at once.’

With an air of shocked discovery Peregrine said: ‘There’s a great deal to be done. There’s that – that – that – dreadful state of affairs on the half-landing.’

‘I’m afraid we shall have to take up a section of the carpet. My chaps will do that. Can you get it replaced in time?’

‘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.’