Detective-Sergeant Bailey did as he was told. His voice, a deep bass, soon mingled reasonably in the uproar: "Now, then, now then, this won't do"; and then the constable:

"Only obeying orders, miss."

The noise grew fainter. A door slammed. Bailey reappeared, looking scandalised. "One of the ladies, sir," he said. "Trying to get into her room."

"Did she get in?" asked Alleyn sharply.

"Well, yes, she did for a minute. Kind of slipped away from the rest of the mob before the P.C. could stop her. He yanked her out of it, quick time."

"Who was it?"

"I think the name was Emerald," said Bailey disgustedly. "Surname, I mean," he added quickly.

"What did she do it for?"

"Something about getting something for her face, she said, sir."

"Well, she's stowed away with the others now," commented Alleyn grimly. "Sit down, all of you. Bathgate, stay if you like, and you too, Dr. Milner."

"Shall I wait?" asked the business manager.

"Yes, if you will, Mr. Stavely. I may want you." They all sat in the heavy leather chairs, and Nigel thought they looked as if they were arranging themselves for the curtain to go up.

"The situation, briefly, is this," Alleyn began. "The body is that of Mr. Arthur Surbonadier. During the course of the last act he played a scene with Mr. Gardener and Miss Vaughan. He threatened Gardener with that revolver lying there. Miss Vaughan covered him from the doorway. Gardener took the revolver from him. He made as if he would strangle Gardener, who raised the gun and shot him at close quarters. The gun business has always been faked. The report comes from the wings. A blank was never used on the stage, as it would have scorched Surbonadier's clothes. There's no doubt where the shot came from. To-night the revolver was loaded, and not with 'dummies.' Let's have a photo of the body, and one of the stage."

One of the plain clothes men went into the stage door passage and returned with a camera. Several photos were taken. The camera-man, a completely silent individual, then removed himself and his paraphernalia.

"This is our divisional surgeon, Dr. Milner."

"Good evening," said the two medicos simultaneously. The divisional surgeon made a brief examination of the body and stood apart talking to Dr. Milner.

"Run a chalk round the body, Bailey, and turn it over," said Alleyn.

Bailey knelt down and did this. Surbonadier was lying half on his face. When he was turned over Nigel forced himself to look at him. He had the same astonished expression as they had seen from their place in the stalls. The grease paint shone dully on the dead face. The eyes were wide open.

"You notice the scorched clothes. He was killed instantly."

"Shot through the heart," said the doctor.

"God, it's awful!" said the manager suddenly.