Alleyn looked doubtfully at the bulk of Crammer and the greenish face of Mr. Melville. He turned resignedly to Gardener.

"Be a good fellow," he said.

"Certainly," said Gardener quietly.

"If your nerves will allow you, Mr. Simpson, perhaps you will impersonate Mr. Gardener."

Simpson did not speak.

"Surely you can do that?"

"I'll do it," said Melville.

"Thank you—I should prefer Mr. Simpson to play this little scene. Now, Mr. Simpson."

Simpson turned and went into Gardener's room.

"Away you go," said Alleyn to Gardener, who nodded and went to the desk. He drew out the top drawer, mimed the business of taking something out, putting something else in. He opened the lower drawer and shut it again, hesitated, glanced interrogatively at Alleyn, and came back to the wings.

"Come out, Mr. Simpson," called Alleyn.

The dressing-room door opened and Simpson came out. He walked down the passage and on to the stage. Gardener bumped into him, stepped aside and began to climb the ladder.

"Right up?" he asked.

"Yes, please."

Gardener went on up the ladder. They watched him. Suddenly they were all aware of the sibilant whisper and of the moving indentation in the cloth. His steps rang on the iron rungs. His head disappeared above the cloth. Then a terrible cry rang out.

"My God, what's that!" screamed Simpson.

Gardener's body swung out from the ladder. It seemed as if he would fall. His feet slipped and for a moment he hung by his hands. Then he righted himself.

"Alleyn!" he cried in a terrible voice, "Alleyn!"

"What's the matter?" shouted Alleyn.

"He's here—he's hanged himself—he's here."

Who?"

"Props—it's Props."

His horrified face looked down at them. "It's Props!" he repeated.

Fox, Bailey, Watkins and Thompson came and stood by the foot of the ladder.

"Come down," said Alleyn.

Gardener came down. Within six rungs of the stage he turned and saw the men that awaited him. With an incoherent cry he stopped short. His lips were drawn back, showing his gums. A streak of saliva trickled down his chin. He squinted.

"And how do you know it is Props?" asked Alleyn.

Gardener kicked down savagely at his face.

"Not again," said Alleyn. "The other time was once too often."

Fox had to drag Gardener down by his ankles. This time Alleyn had remembered his handcuffs.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Epilogue to a Play

IF CHIEF DETECTIVE-INSPECTOR ALLEYN was interested in the dramatic unities it may have given him some sort of satisfaction to note that the epilogue to the Unicorn murder was spoken on the stage of the theatre.

Gardener had been taken away. Miss Emerald had indulged in a fit of genuine hysterics and had departed. Barclay Crammer, George Simpson, Howard Melville and Dulcie Deamer, all strangely unreal in the harsh light of actual tragedy, had walked down the stage door alley-way and disappeared. The Beadles had gone with old Blair.