He stood there, his hands in his pockets, with Fox at his elbow. ‘This one suffers from the fashionable complaint, Fox,’ he said. ‘Schizophrenia. It’s got a split personality. On my left a rather too smart overcoat, a frisky hat, chichi gloves, a pansy purse-bag, a large bottle of one of the less reputable scents, a gaggle of mascots, a bouquet from the management and orchids from—who do you suppose?’ He turned over the card. ‘Yes. Alas, yes, with love and a thousand good wishes from her devoted J.G. On my right a well-worn and modest little topcoat, a pair of carefully tended shoes and gloves that remind one of the White Rabbit, a grey skirt and beret and a yellow jumper. A handbag that contains, I’m sure, one of those rather heart-rending little purses and—what else?’ He explored the bag. ‘A New Zealand passport issued this year in which one finds Miss Tarne is nineteen years old and an actress. So the dresser’s job was—what? The result of an appeal to the celebrated third cousin? But why not give her the understudy at once? She’s fantastically like him and I’ll be sworn he’s mightily catched with her. What’s more, even old Darcey says she’s a damn good actress.’ He turned the leaves of the passport. ‘She only arrived in England seventeen days ago. Can that account for the oddness of the set-up? Anyway, I don’t suppose it matters. Let’s go next door, shall we?’

Cringle had left Poole’s room in exquisite order. Telegrams were pinned in rows on the wall. A towel was spread over the make-up. A cigarette had been half-extracted from a packet and a match left ready on the top of its box. A framed photograph of Helena Hamilton stood near the glass. Beside it a tiny clock with a gay face ticked feverishly. It stood on a card. Alleyn moved it delicately and read the inscription. ‘From Helena. Tonight and tomorrow and always: bless you.’

‘The standard for first night keepsakes seems to be set at a high level,’ Alleyn muttered. ‘This is a French clock, Fox, with a Sevres face encircled with garnets. What do you suppose the gentleman gave the lady?’

‘Would a tiara be common?’ asked Fox.

‘Let’s go next door and see.’