"I'll just take a look at it while she's changing." They returned to the stage. Felix Gardener was walking up and down the passage to the outside exit, and paid little attention to them. Nigel went and spoke to Gardener, but he answered at random and looked at him as though they were strangers.

"It'll be all right, Felix," ventured Nigel lamely.

"What'll be all right?"

"Alleyn will find out who did it. Innocent people are never accused nowadays."

"Do you think I'm worrying about that?" asked Gardener, and fell to walking up and down again. Nigel left him alone.

On the stage Alleyn looked critically at the reconstruction of the penultimate scene. The desk was in position. Miss Max's arm-chair was on the O.P. side, and the window-seat in position, near which Janet Emerald had had her last conversation with Arthur Surbonadier.

"We've had all the chair-seats out, and so on," said Bailey, who was in shirt sleeves. The two constables, who had been helping him, stared solemnly at the furniture. Melville had gone.

"There's something missing," said Alleyn.

"Mr. Melville said not, sir," said Bailey.

"Yes, there is. A spot of colour. What is it?" He turned to Nigel. "There was a spot of colour somewhere in that scene. Something red."

"I know," said Nigel suddenly. "Miss Max's bag for her knitting. It hung on that chair arm."

"Good man," exclaimed Alleyn. "Let's find it." They hunted about. One of the constables disappeared in the direction of the property room.

"Damn the thing, where is it?" murmured Alleyn. "It hung on the chair throughout the scene, and at the end she stuffed her knitting into it and left it there." He hunted round offstage and muttered to himself.

"Does it matter much?" Nigel asked wearily.

"What?"

"Does it matter much?"

"No. I just want to make the stage look pretty."

Nigel was silent.

"Is this the affair, sir?" said the constable, reappearing. In his paw he held a large red bag. Alleyn strode over and took it.

"That's it."

He drew out a long and loud strip of knitting, and then thrust his hand deeper into the bag. A singularly blank look stole over his face, and the others, who knew him, pricked up their ears.

"Has any gentleman in the audience missed an article of clothing?" asked Alleyn. He made a face at Nigel, and looked round, most provokingly. Then so suddenly that they all jumped, he whisked out his hand and held it high above his head.

In it was a pair of grey suede gloves. "Eureka!" said Chief Detective-Inspector Alleyn.

CHAPTER NINE

Stephanie Vaughan's Shoulder

"YES, BUT LOOK HERE," Nigel began indignantly.

"Old Miss Max—I mean to say, that's a bit too thick. She's a nice old thing."

Alleyn gave one of his rare laughs. "All right, all right," he said. "Don't bite my head off. I didn't plant the things."

"Well, somebody else did, then."