BY NINE O'CLOCK on the following morning Nigel had got his story ready to go to press. He warned his subeditors of his activities and they agreed, with a certain display of irritated enthusiasm, to hold back the front page while he submitted his copy to Alleyn. The morning papers were blazing with effective headlines, supported by exceedingly meagre information. Nigel sought out his friend at Scotland Yard and found him more amenable to persuasion than he had anticipated. The article laid great emphasis on the view that Gardener's part in the tragedy, painful though it had been for himself, did not point in any way to his complicity in the murder. Alleyn did not dispute this, or censor a word of it. Nigel had made little of the personal relationships of Surbonadier, Gardener and Miss Vaughan, beyond using the romantic appeal of the engagement between the last two. He made a lot of his first-hand impression of the tragedy, and of the subsequent scenes behind the curtain.

"Less culpable than I anticipated," said Chief Detective-Inspector Alleyn. "With the few deletions I've pencilled it can go through. Are you returning to your office?"

"Not if you'll have me here," said Nigel promptly. "I've got a boy to take back the copy."

"Aren't you a one? All right—come back. I've come to the stage when I can do with a Boswell."

"Throwing bouquets at yourself, I see," said Nigel. "I'll be back in a jiffy."

Having sent the boy off to Fleet Street, he returned to find Alleyn at the telephone.

"Very well," he said into the instrument as he glanced round at Nigel, "I'll see you in twenty minutes"—and hung up the receiver.

"A very unpleasant gentleman," he grunted.

"How—unpleasant?"

"An informer, or hopes to be."

"Who is it?"

"Mr. Saint's footman. Wait and see."

"I will," said Nigel enthusiastically. "How are you getting on, inspector?"

"Oh, it's a devil of a job," Alleyn complained.

"I've been trying to get it straight in my mind," ventured Nigel, "as far as I know it. I made a sort of amateur dossier."

"I don't suppose you know what a dossier is," said Alleyn. "However, let's see your effort."

Nigel produced several sheets of typewritten paper.

"Here are the notes I took for you."

"Thank you so much, Bathgate. Now do show me your summary. It may be very useful. I'm bad at summarizing."

Nigel glanced suspiciously at him, but Alleyn seemed to be quite serious. He lit his pipe and applied himself to the sheet of foolscap, at the top of which Nigel had typed in capital letters:

MURDER AT THE UNICORN.

Circumstances.