"Nor is she."

"Are you being a cad, Mr. Alleyn?"

"Yes, Mr. Bathgate."

"What were you driving at about that bruise?"

"Didn't you guess? Can't you see?"

"No, I can't. Unless you wanted an excuse to dally with the lady."

"Have it that way, if you like," said Alleyn.

"I think you're very silly," said Nigel, grandly, "and I'm going home."

"So am I. Thank you for giving me such a lovely evening."

"Not a bit. So glad you were able to come. I must do a job of work before I go to bed."

"What's this—what's this?"

"Story for my paper. It's a scoop."

"You'll bring whatever gup you write to me in the morning, young fella."

"Oh, I say, Alleyn!" Nigel protested.

"Yes, indeed. I'd forgotten your horrible evening shocker. The officer outside has turned away a collection of your boy friends already."

"Well, let me do a bit. It's a scoop—really it is."

"Bring it to my study to-morrow, sir."

"Oh, all right."

Alleyn assembled his men and they filed out of the stage door. The lights were turned off.

"A final black-out," said Alleyn's voice in the dark.

The stage of the Unicorn was completely silent and quite given over to the memory of dead plays. Nigel was oppressed by the sense of uneasy expectation that visits all interlopers in deserted buildings. Now, he thought, was the time for ghosts of old mummers to step out from behind the waiting doorways and mouth their way silently through forgotten scenes. Somewhere above their heads a rope creaked, and a little draught of air soughed among the hanging canvas.

"Let's go," said Nigel.

Alleyn switched on an electric torch and they found their way down the passage to the stage door. Nigel stepped out into the cool air. The others were talking to a night-watchman, and to two young men, whom Nigel recognised as journalists.

"Just a moment," said Alleyn's voice in the passage. "Look here!"

The others turned back. The light from the torch had penetrated a kind of dark cubby-hole on the left of the doorway. It shone on old Blair's closed eyes.

"Good God!" exclaimed Nigel. "Is he dead?"

"No—only asleep," said Alleyn. "What's his name?"

"Blair," said the night-watchman.

"Wake up, Blair," said Alleyn. "It's long past the final curtain, and they've all gone home to bed."

CHAPTER TEN

The Day After