"Yes. Saint's tucked up in bed and the specialist's been sent for."

"I've just been telling Mr. Bathgate," said Alleyn, "that I don't want him at the theatre to-morrow, and he's got the huff in consequence."

"Inspector Alleyn's quite right, sir," said Fox. "You'd better keep clear of this business. After what you overheard this morning."

"Do you suppose Miss Vaughan is going to ram an arsenic chocolate down my maw?"

The two detectives exchanged a look.

"Oh, well, I'm off," said Nigel angrily.

"Good evening," said Alleyn cheerfully.

Nigel allowed himself the doubtful luxury of slamming the door.

Once out in the street he began to feel rather foolish, and angrier than ever with Chief Detective-Inspector Alleyn for causing this uncomfortable sensation. It was now seven o'clock and Nigel was hungry. He walked rapidly to Regent Street and went into the downstairs restaurant at the Hungaria, where he had a morose and extravagant dinner. He ordered himself brandy, and a cigar which he did not want and did not enjoy. When these were exhausted Nigel called for his bill, tipped his waiter, and marched out of the restaurant.

"Damn it," he said to Lower Regent Street. "I'm going there to-morrow whether he likes it or not."

He took a taxi to his flat in Chester Terrace.

Chief Detective-Inspector Alleyn also dined alone, at a restaurant near the Yard. He returned to his room soon after eight, opened the file of the Unicorn case and went over it very carefully with Inspector Fox. They were two hours at this business. Naseby came in and reported. He had seen Props and had brought off his conversation nicely. Props had seemed very much upset and when last seen was walking in the direction of the King's Road. Naseby had seen him go into a telephone-box, and had then left him to Detective Thompson, who preferred to carry on without being relieved.

Alleyn and Fox returned to the file. Bit by bit they strung together the events of the last three days, and Alleyn talked and Fox listened. At one stage he cast himself back in his chair and stared for fully ten seconds at his superior.

"Do you agree?" asked Alleyn.

"Oh, yes," said Fox heavily, "I agree."

He thought for a moment and then he said:

"I've been thinking that in difficult homicide cases you either get no motive or too many motives. In this instance there are too many. Jacob Saint had been blackmailed by the deceased; Stephanie Vaughan was pestered and threatened. Trixie Beadle was probably ruined by him; Props was what lawyers called 'deeply wronged.' So was the girl's father. That Emerald woman gets Saint's money by it. Well, I don't mind owning I've had my eye on all of 'em in turn. There you are."