They had both managed to avoid speaking of Miss Vaughan. Nigel's theory about Saint came into his mind. He smiled rather wryly to himself at the remembrance of his so recent enthusiasm. Did Gardener wonder if he had overheard anything? Nigel believed that idea had not entered his friend's head. As Felix himself said, he was suffering from shock. Nigel forced himself to speak at random. It was hard to find anything to talk about. He who, hitherto, had barely impinged upon the edge of the theatrical world now found himself drawn into it. He felt, suddenly, as though he were surrounded by these people, as though, against his will, he was obliged to witness a play they had staged and as though he had been compelled to leave his seat in the auditorium and mingle confusedly with the action of the piece. The two men must have been silent for some time, for Nigel was startled to hear Gardener say suddenly:

"She gave her evidence well, didn't she?"

"Who?"

"Stephanie."

"Very well."

Some inflexion in Nigel's voice arrested Gardener's attention. He looked at his friend with a kind of agony in his eyes.

"Nigel—you remember what I said. Neither of us is guilty. I gave you my word and you said you believed me."

"I know I did," said Nigel miserably.

"Are you beginning—to wonder?"

"Are you sure you're right, Felix? She——Oh, Lord!"

Gardener laughed.

"You are beginning to wonder. My God, if you only knew what a heroine she is!"

"Can't you come clean, Felix?"

"I can't—I can't. Not about Stephanie. Oh, well, I suppose I can't blame you. It looks pretty damning, for both of us. What does Alleyn say about the suicide theory?"

"He tells me very little," said Nigel.

"The verdict of the inquest was wrong," Gardener said urgently. "It was suicide. I'll see Alleyn myself and try and make him——" He broke off short. "He must be made to accept that it was suicide."

"I must go. Do try and get some sleep, Felix."

"Sleep! 'Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleeve of care.' Ugh! There goes the actor! Good-bye, Nigel."

"I'll let myself out. Good-bye."

Nigel walked sombrely downstairs and out again into Sloane Street.

He realised now that he had a terrible decision to make. Was he to tell Alleyn of the conversation he had overheard? A woman! He shied off the logical consequence of his statement, and then, despising himself, came back to it again. If he held his tongue what would happen? Would Felix, who loved her, let Saint be accused of the murder? He thought of Alleyn's attitude towards his scruples, and suddenly realised that it was his own peace of mind that he was trying to salvage. He was in Knightsbridge, and walking down to Hyde Park Corner, when he made his decision. He had no right to withhold his knowledge.

He would tell Alleyn. With a heavy heart he stopped a taxi.