Helena’s room smelt and looked like a conservatory. A table had been brought in to carry the flowers. Jacko had set out the inevitable telegrams and had hung up the dresses under their dust sheets. ‘Here we are,’ Alleyn said. ‘A sort of jeroboam of the most expensive scent on the market. Price, I should say, round about thirty pounds. “From Adam.” Why don’t you give me presents when we solve a petty larceny, Foxkin? Now, I may be fanciful but this looks to me like the gift of a man who’s at his wits’ end and plumps for the expensive, the easy and the obvious. Here’s something entirely different. Look at this, Fox.’

It was a necklace of six wooden medallions strung between jade rings. Each plaque was most delicately carved in the likeness of a head in profile and each head was a portrait of one of the company of players. The card bore the date and the inscription: ‘From J.’

‘Must have taken a long time to do,’ observed Fox. ‘That’ll be the foreign gentleman’s work, no doubt, Mr Doré.’

‘No doubt. I wonder if love’s labour has been altogether lost,’ said Alleyn. ‘I hope she appreciates it.’

He took up the leather-case with its two photographs of Poole. ‘He’s a remarkable looking chap,’ he said. ‘If there’s anything to be made of faces in terms of character, and I still like to pretend there is, what’s to be made of this one? It’s what they call a heart-shaped face, broad across the eyes with a firmly moulded chin and a generous but delicate mouth. Reminds one of a Holbein drawing. Doré’s sketch in the greenroom is damn good. Doré crops up all over the place, doesn’t he? Designs their fancy dresses. Paints their faces, in a double sense. Does their décor and with complete self-effacement, loves their leading lady.’

‘Do you reckon?’

‘I do indeed, Br’er Fox,’ Alleyn said and rubbed his nose vexedly. ‘However. Gibson’s done all the usual things in these rooms, I suppose?’

‘Yes, Mr Alleyn. Pockets, suitcases and boxes. Nothing to show for it.’

‘We may as well let them come home to roost, then. We’ll see them separately. They can change into their day clothes. The Gainsford has already, of course, done so. Blast! I suppose I’ll have to check Darcey’s statement with the Gainsford. She gives me the horrors, that young woman.’

‘Shall I see her, Mr Alleyn?’