He butted open the swing-doors.

“Wait a bit,” said Alleyn. “Let’s get a sort of picture of the proceedings, may we? Before the operation you and the other medical men forgathered in here.”

“That’s it. Sir John and I came in here together. Dr. Roberts came in for a moment and then went off to the anæsthetising-room, where the patient was brought to him.”

“Anyone else in here during that time?”

“With Phillips and me, you mean? Oh, yes—the matron, Sister Marigold, you know. She does theatre sister. It’s only a small hospital, and she rather fancies herself at the job, does old Marigold. Then, let me see, the other two nurses were dodging about. Thingummy, the Bolshie one, and that pretty girl that did a faint—Harden.”

“What did you all talk about?”

“Talk about?” echoed Thoms. He had a curious trick of gaping at the simplest question as though much taken aback. His eyes popped and his mouth fell open. He then gave a short and, to Alleyn, tiresome guffaw.

“What did we talk about?” he repeated. “Well, let’s see. Oh, I asked Sir John if he had seen the show at the Palladium this week and—” He stopped short and again his eyes bolted.

“Well—what about it?” asked Alleyn patiently.

“He said he hadn’t,” said Thoms. He looked ridiculously uncomfortable, as though he had nearly said something frightfully improper.

“I missed the Palladium this week,” Alleyn remarked. “It’s particularly good, I hear.”

“Oh,” Thoms mumbled, “not bad. Rather rot really.”

He seemed extraordinarily embarrassed.

“And had Sir John seen the show?” asked Alleyn lightly.

“Er—no, no, he hadn’t.”

“Did you discuss any particular part of it?”

“No. Only mentioned the show—nothing particular.”

There was a long pause during which Thoms whistled under his breath.

“During this time,” said Alleyn at last, “was any one member of the theatre party alone?”

“In here?”

“In here.”

“Let me think,” begged Thoms. Alleyn let him think. “No—no. As far as I remember, we were all here. Then one of the nurses showed Roberts to the anæsthetising-room. That left Sir John and the other two nurses and myself. I went with Marigold into the theatre to look round. That left Sir John and the other nurse—the pretty one—in this room. They were here when I got back. Then Roberts and I washed up while Sir John went into the theatre to fix his hyoscine injection. He always does that and gives it himself. Rum idea. We usually leave all that game to the anæsthetist. Of course, in this instance everything had been very hurried. The patient had not been given the usual morphia and atropine injection. Well, let’s see. The females were dodging about, I suppose. I remember the— what’s-her-name—the Banks woman asked me why Sir John didn’t use the stock solution.”

“Why didn’t he?”