‘Okay, Mr Alleyn.’

‘And Bailey had better have a go at the paper-weight. I think it was probably on the table near the French windows. There are various piles of stacked papers, all but one weighed down. And one of the ashtrays has got two lipsticked butts in it. Miss Ralston and Leiss smoke Mainsails, Lady Bantling smokes Cafards and Mr Period, Turkish. Ask him to look. Gloves!’ Alleyn ejaculated. ‘If we could find those damn’ gloves. Not that they are likely to have anything to do with this party but we’ve a glove-conscious homicide on our hands, I fancy. All right … Let’s get cracking.’

And it was at this juncture – at a quarter to midnight – that he talked on the telephone to Nicola Maitland-Mayne.

Then he rejoined Elekton in the drawing-room.

‘Has he said anything else?’

‘No.’

‘Look here, Elekton, can you stick it here with Williams for a bit? We’re fully extended, we can’t risk the chance of missing anything he may say and Williams will be glad of a witness. Somebody will relieve you as soon as possible.’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Write it down, Bob, if he does speak. I’m much obliged to you both.’

He was about to go when a sound, fainter than anything they had heard, came from the sofa. It wavered tenuously for a second or two and petered out. Mr Period, from whatever region he at present inhabited, had been singing.

II

As Alleyn was about to leave the house, Detective-Sergeant Bailey presented himself.

‘There’s a small thing,’ he said.

‘What small thing?’

‘There’s nothing for us on the gravel outside the French windows, Mr Alleyn, but I reckon there’s something on the carpet.’

‘What?’

‘Traces of ash. Scuffed into the carpet, I reckon, by one of those pin-point heels.’

‘Good man,’ Alleyn said. ‘Carry on.’ He let himself out and walked down the drive.

It was a dark night, overcast and rather sultry. As he approached the gates he became aware of a very slight movement in a patch of extremely black shadows cast by a group of trees. He stopped dead. Was it Thompson or Raikes, on to something and keeping doggo or was it –? He listened again and there was a rustle and the sound of heavy breathing. At this moment a spot of torchlight danced about the drive and Sergeant Raikes himself appeared from the opposite direction, having apparently crossed the lawn and emerged through Mr Period’s shrubs. He shone his light in Alleyn’s face and said: ‘Oh, beg pardon, sir. There’s nothing to be seen, sir, anywhere. Except dog prints. Two kinds.’

Alleyn gestured silently towards the shadows. ‘Eh?’ said Raikes. ‘What?’ And then comprehensively: ‘Cor!’

There being no point after this in attempting any further concealment Alleyn said: ‘Look out, you ass,’ and switched on his own torchlight, aiming it at the shadows.

‘On your toes now,’ he said and advanced, Raikes with him.