Then quite suddenly they were aware that the door had been flung open and that Arthur Surbonadier was standing in the room. With one hand he held on to the door—with the other he fumbled at the spotted neckerchief below his scrubby beard. His mouth was half open and he seemed to be short of breath. At last he spoke.

"Quite a jolly little party," he said. His voice was thick and they saw how his lips trembled. They stopped short in their laughter, Gardener still with his hand on that lovely shoulder, Stephanie Vaughan open-mouthed and frozen into immobility—rather as though they were posing for a theatrical photograph. There was a quite appalling little silence.

"Charming picture," said Surbonadier. "All loving and bright. Mayn't I know the joke?"

"The joke," said Alleyn quickly, "was a bad one—of mine."

"The cream of the jest," said Surbonadier, "is on me. Stephanie will explain it to you. You're the detective, aren't you?"

Gardener and Nigel both started talking. Nigel heard himself introduce Alleyn. Gardener was saying something about his supper-party. Alleyn had got to his feet and was offering Miss Vaughan a cigarette. She took it without moving her gaze off Surbonadier, and Alleyn lit it for her.

"I'm sure we ought to go round to the front," he said. "Don't let's miss the first scene, Nigel—I can't bear to be late."

He took Nigel by the arm, said something courteous to Miss Vaughan, shook Gardener's hand, and propelled Nigel towards the door.

"Don't let me drive you away," said Surbonadier, without moving from the doorway. "I've come to see the fun. Came to see Gardener really, and found him—having his fun."

"Arthur!" Stephanie Vaughan spoke for the first time.

"Well," said Surbonadier loudly, "I've made up m' mind to stop the fun—see? No reason why you shouldn't hear"—he turned slightly towards Nigel. "You're a journalist. Literary man. Here's a surprise—Gardener's a literary man, too."

"Arthur, you're tight," said Gardener. He moved towards Surbonadier, who took a step towards him. Alleyn seized his chance and shoved Nigel through the door.

"Good-bye for the moment," he called. "See you after the show"—and in a second or two they were back on the stage staring at one another.

"That was pretty beastly," said Nigel.

"Yes," said Alleyn. "Come on."

"The brute's drunk," said Nigel.

"Yes," said Alleyn. "This way."

They crossed the stage and made for the exit door, standing aside to let an elderly woman come in; they heard old Blair say: "'Evening, Miss Max." As they went out a voice in the passage behind them called:

"Overture and beginners, please. Overture and beginners, please."

CHAPTER THREE

Death of the Beaver

"IT'S AMAZING TO ME," said Nigel, in the second interval, "how that fellow Surbonadier can play a part in the state he's in. You'd never guess he was tight now, would you?"