‘Yes, do,’ said Alleyn and gave her his address.

He hung up the receiver and turned to find Bridget and Donald looking very startled.

‘Donna!’ whispered Bridget. ‘Oh, golly!’

‘Had I better go?’ asked Donald.

‘I think perhaps you’d better,’ said Alleyn.

‘If Bridgie’s going to be hauled over the coals I’d rather stay.’

‘No, darling,’ said Bridget, ‘it will be better not, honestly. As long as Bart doesn’t find out I’ll be all right.’

‘Your mother won’t be here for ten minutes,’ said Alleyn. ‘Look here, Donald, I want a full account of this gambling business at Leatherhead. If I put you in another room will you write one for me? It will save us a great deal of time and trouble. It must be as clear as possible with no trimmings and as many dates as you can conjure up. It will, I hope, lead to Captain Withers’s conviction.’

Donald looked uncomfortable.

‘It seems rather a ghastly sort of thing to do. I mean—’

‘Good heavens, you have just told me you think the man’s a murderer and you apparently know he’s a blackguard. He’s used you as a cat’s-paw and I understand his idea has been to swindle you out of your money!’

‘All right,’ said Donald. ‘I’ll do it.’

Alleyn took him into the dining-room and settled him there with pen and paper.

‘I’ll come in later on and see what sort of fist you’ve made of it. There will have to be witnesses to your signature.’

‘Shall I be had up as an accomplice?’

‘I hardly think so. How old are you?’

‘Twenty-one in August. It’s not that I mind for myself. At least it would be pretty bloody, wouldn’t it? But I’ve said I’ll go through with it.’

‘So you have. Don’t make too big a sainted martyr of yourself,’ said Alleyn good-naturedly. Donald looked up at him and suddenly the ghost of Lord Robert’s twinkle came into his eyes.

‘All right,’ he said. ‘I won’t.’

Alleyn returned to Bridget and found her sitting on the hearth-rug. She looked very frightened.

‘Does Bart know?’

‘No, but your mother’s been very worried.’

‘Well, that’s not all me. Bart’s nearly driving her dotty. I can’t tell you what he’s like. Honestly it would never astonish me if Bart had an apoplectic fit and went crazy.’

‘Dear me,’ said Alleyn.

‘No, honestly. I don’t know what he told you when you interviewed him but I suppose you saw through the famous Carrados pose, didn’t you? Of course you did. But you may not have realized what a temper he’s got. I didn’t for a long time. I mean not until I was about fifteen.’

‘Two years ago?’ asked Alleyn with a smile. ‘Tell me about it.’

‘It was simply frightful. Donna had been ill and she was sleeping very badly. Bart was asked if he’d mind going into his dressing-room. I didn’t realize then, but I do now, that that was what annoyed him. He always gets the huff when Donna’s ill. He takes it as a sort of personal insult and being a beastly old Victorian Turk the dressing-room idea absolutely put the tin cupola on it. Are you shocked?’