‘I can’t help feeling this scene is being played at the wrong time, in the wrong place and before the wrong audience. And I doubt,’ Martyn said, not looking at him, ‘if it should be played at all.’

‘But I can’t be mistaken. It has happened for us, Martyn. Hasn’t it? Suddenly, preposterously, almost at first sight we blinked and looked again and there we were. Tell me it’s happened. The bird under your wrist is so wildly agitated. Is that only because you are frightened?’

‘I am frightened. I wanted to ask your advice and now you make it impossible.’

‘I’ll give you my advice. There. Now you are alone again. But for the sake of the law’s peace of mind as well as my own you must take a firm line about your blushing.’

‘It was something he said to me that morning,’ she murmured in the lowest voice she could command.

‘Do you mean the morning when I first saw you?’

‘I mean,’ Martyn said desperately, ‘the morning the photographs were taken. I had to go to his dressing-room.’

‘I remember very well. You came into mine too.’

‘He said something, then. He was very odd in his manner. They’ve asked us to try and remember anything at all unusual.’

‘Are you going to tell me what it was?’

In a few words and under her breath she did so.

Poole said: ‘Perhaps you should tell them. Yes, I think you should. In a moment I’ll do something about it but there’s one thing more I must say to you. Do you know I’m glad this scene has been played so awkwardly—inaudible, huddled up, inauspicious and uneffective. Technically altogether bad. It gives it a kind of authority, I hope. Martyn, are you very much surprised? Please look at me.’

She did as he asked and discovered an expression of such doubt and anxiety in his face that to her own astonishment she put her hand against his cheek and he held it there for a second. ‘God!’ he said. ‘What a thing to happen!’ He got up abruptly and crossed the stage.

‘Inspector,’ he said, ‘Miss Tarne has remembered an incident three days old which we both think might possibly be of some help. What should we do about it?’

The others stirred a little. J.G. opened his eyes.

Fox got up. ‘Thank you very much, sir,’ he said. ‘When Mr Alleyn is disengaged I’m sure he’ll—Yes? What is it?’

PC Lamprey had come in. He delivered his message about the dressing-rooms being open for the use of their occupants. At the sound of his brisk and loudish voice they all stirred. Helena and Darcey got to their feet. Jacko sat up. Clem, Gay and Dr Rutherford opened their eyes, listened to the announcement and went to sleep again.