Fox was out on the stage and had crossed through the wings. Alleyn gave him a few minutes longer, and then made his way to the prompt corner. He went out by the footlights, where he knew the men in the stalls would see him. He pointed his torch out into the house and switched it on. A face leapt out of the dark and blinked. One of his own men. He hunted round the stage which was set as he had left it. His stocking foot trod on a piece of glass that must have been left there from the broken chandelier. All this time the faint, sibilant noise and the intermittent creak persisted. He now realised that they came from above his head.

Perhaps Props was back in his perch up there in the grid. Perhaps he waited with a rope in his hands ready to loose another bulk of dead weight. But why should Props let that noise go on up there? There was no draught of air.

From the centre of the stage Alleyn spoke aloud. He was conscious of a dread to hear his own voice. When it came it sounded strange.

"Fox!" he said. "Where are you?"

"Here, sir." Fox was over near the prompt corner.

"Get up that little iron ladder to the switchboard. If he's here he's lying low. Give us all the light in the house. I refuse to play sardines with Mr. Hickson."

Fox climbed the ladder slowly. From down in front one of the constables gave a deprecatory cough.

Click. Click.

The circle came into view, then the stalls. The constables were standing in the two aisles.

Click.

The footlights sprang up in a white glare. Then the proscenium was cinctured with warmth. The lamp on the stage suddenly came alive. The passages glowed. A blaze of light sprang up above the stage. The theatre was awake.

In the centre of the stage Alleyn stood with his eyes screwed up, blinded by light. The two constables came through the wings, their hands arched over their faces. From the switch-board Fox said:

"That's light enough to see an invisible man."

Alleyn, still peering, bent over the footlights. "You two in front," he said, "search the place thoroughly—offices upstairs—cloak-rooms—everything. We'll deal with this department."

He turned to the men on the stage.

"We'll go about this in pairs. He's a shell-shocked man and he's a bit desperate. Somewhere or another in this rabbit warren he's hidden. I think he'll be in his own department behind the scenes. We'll wait till these fellows in the front of the house come back."

They lit cigarettes and stayed uneasily on the stage. The sound of doors shutting announced the activities of the men in front.

"Rum sort of place this, when there's nothing doing," said Fox.

"Yes," Alleyn agreed. "It feels expectant."

"Any idea why he came here, sir?"

"Unfortunately I have. A particularly nasty idea."

The others waited hopefully.