They’ve not got a leg to stand on, she thought triumphantly.

Simon Morten rang up Maggie Mannering and asked her to lunch with him at the Wig and Piglet. She said she would and invited him to come early for her so that they could have a good talk in private. He arrived at noon.

‘Maggie,’ he said, holding her hands, ‘I wanted to ask you last night but you’ve been so remote, darling. I thought perhaps…I didn’t know how you felt or…well, I even thought you might have your doubts about me. And I thought I’d better find out, one way or another. And so – here I am.’

Maggie stared at him. ‘Do you mean,’ she said, ‘that you thought I wondered if you decapitated Dougal? Is that it?’

‘Well, I know it’s idiotic but – well, yes. Don’t laugh at me Maggie, please. I’ve been in hell.’

‘I’ll try not to,’ she said. ‘I’m sure you have. But why? Why would I think you’d done it? What motive could you have had for it?’

‘Haven’t you even noticed?’

‘What haven’t I noticed?’

‘I’m horribly jealous,’ he muttered, turning dark red. ‘And you did the sex thing with him so awfully well. Just looking at you and listening, I – well, I’m sorry.’

‘Now just you look here, Simon,’ said Maggie vigorously. ‘We’re both going to play in The Glove. You’re going to be tormented by me and it is not going to be all muddled up with the real thing: that way it’ll go wrong. The audience will sense there’s another reality intruding on the dramatic reality and they’ll feel uncomfortable. Won’t they?’

‘I know how you feel about the mask an actor wears,’ he said.

‘Yes, I do. And you take yours off at your peril. Right?’

‘All right.’

‘Shake?’ she said, holding out her hand.

‘All right, shake,’ he said and took it.

‘Now we can go and have our blameless luncheon,’ said Maggie. ‘Come on. For the first time since it happened, I’m nervous. Let’s talk about The Bard in love.’

So they went to the Wig and Piglet.

To everyone’s relief Gaston retired to his own premises. Presumably to lick his incomprehensible wounds. On Monday evening he renewed his assault on the Yard. Mr Fox was called to the telephone which was switched through to Alleyn’s room. ‘Hullo?’ he said.

‘First of all,’ roared the intemperate man, ‘I intimated that I wished to communicate with Chief Superintendent Alleyn. You do not sound like the Chief Superintendent.’

‘This is his room, sir, but I am not the Chief Superintendent. He is unable to come to the telephone and authorizes me to speak for him. What seems to be the trouble, sir?’