CLEM SMITH RANG UP the police as soon as Dr Rutherford said that Bennington was beyond recovery and within five minutes a constable and sergeant had appeared at the stage-door. They went into the dock with Rutherford and then to Bennington’s dressing-room where they remained alone for some time. During this period an aimless discussion developed among the members of the company about where they should go. Clem Smith suggested the greenroom as the warmest place and added, tactlessly, that the fumes had probably dispersed and if so there was no reason why they shouldn’t light the fire. Both Parry Percival and Gay Gainsford had made an outcry against this suggestion on the grounds of delicacy and susceptibility. Darcey supported Gay, the ASM suggested the offices and Jacko the auditorium. Doctor Rutherford, who appeared to be less upset than anyone else, merely remarked that ‘all places that the eye of Heaven visits, are to a wise man, ports and happy havens,’ which, as Percival said acidly, got them nowhere.

Finally Poole asked if the central-heating couldn’t be stoked up and a stage-hand was dispatched to the underworld to find out. Evidently he met with success as presently the air became less chilled. With only a spatter of desultory conversation, the players sat about the stage and cleaned their faces. And they listened.

They heard the two men come back along the passage and separate. Then the central door opened and the young constable came in.

He was a tall good-looking youth with a charming smile.

‘The sergeant,’ he said, ‘has asked me to explain that he’s telephoning Scotland Yard. He couldn’t be more sorry but he’s afraid he’ll have to ask everybody to wait until he gets his instructions. He’s sure you’ll understand that it’s just a matter of routine.’

He might have been apologizing for his mother’s late arrival at her own dinner-party.

He was about to withdraw when Dr Rutherford said: ‘Hi! Sonny!’

‘Yes, sir?’ said the young constable obligingly.

‘You intrigue me. You talk, as they say, like a book. Non sine dis animosus infans. You swear with a good grace and wear your boots very smooth, do you not?’

The young constable was, it seemed, only momentarily taken aback. He said: ‘Well, sir, for my boots they are after the Dogberry fashion and for my swearing, sir, it goes by the book.’

The doctor who, until now, had seemed to share the general feeling of oppression and shock, appeared to cheer up with indecent haste. He was, in fact, clearly enchanted: ‘Definite, definite, well-educated infant,’ he quoted exultantly.

‘I mean that in court, sir, we swear by the Book. But I’m afraid, sir,’ added the young constable apologetically, ‘that I’m not much of a hand at “Bardinage”. My purse is empty already. If you’ll excuse me,’ he concluded, with a civil glance round the company, ‘I’ll just—’