“Pippin!” exclaimed Nigel suddenly. “We’re keeping our pal waiting. He’s hanging round outside the door there. Murder! It’s half-past one and we swore we’d meet those other chaps before then.”

“Ow, gracious, how awful!” said Angela. They grasped Mr. Sage’s hand, said hurriedly they hoped they’d meet again, and scuttled away.

The comrades had broken up into groups. Many of them had gone. Nigel and Angela saw Alleyn at the door with his gloomy friend. A short, well-dressed man followed them out, passed them, walked quickly to the outer door, and ran noisily down the iron stairs. Alleyn stood and stared after him. He and the truculent man exchanged a glance.

“Come on,” said Alleyn.

As they all walked out Nigel and Angela kept up a rather feverish conversation in their assumed voices. Alleyn was completely silent and so was his friend. Angela felt rather frightened. Did this man suspect them?

“I thought it was a perfectly marvellous meeting,” she said loudly as they walked down the empty street.

“Stimulating—that’s what it was, stimulating,” gushed Nigel.

The man grunted. Alleyn was silent.

“I was so pleased to meet Comrade Sage,” continued Angela with an air of the greatest enthusiasm.

“He’s all right,” conceded Nigel, “but I wouldn’t say he was quite sound.”

“You mean about O’Callaghan? Oh, I don’t know. What did you think about O’Callaghan, comrade?” Angela turned desperately to Alleyn.

“Oh, I’m all for bloodshed,” said Alleyn dryly. “Aren’t you, comrade?” He turned to his friend.

The man uttered a short sinister laugh. Angela took Nigel’s hand. “He was an ulcer,” she said confusedly, but with energy. “When we find an ulcer we—we—”

“Poultice it?” suggested Alleyn.

“We cut it out.”

“Paw ongcourager les autres,” said the man in diabolical French.

“Oh,” said Nigel, “not exactly that, comrade—er—?”

“Fox,” said Alleyn. “You’ve met before.”

“?!!”

“It’s all right, sir,” said Inspector Fox soothingly. “It’s the removal of my dentures that did it. Rather confusing.

You were getting on very nicely. It was quite a treat to listen to you.”

“Stimulating—that’s what it was, stimulating,” added Alleyn.

“Inspector Alleyn,” said Angela furiously, “I’ll never forgive you for this—never.”

“Hist!” said Alleyn. “The very walls have ears.”

“Oh!” stormed Angela. “Oh! Oooo! Oh!”

“Murder!” said Nigel very quietly.

They walked on in silence until they came out by the river. A taxi drew up alongside them and they got in. Inspector Fox took a cardboard box from his pocket, turned delicately aside, and inserted his plates.

“Begging your pardon, miss,” he said, “but it’s pleasanter to have them.”

“And now,” said Alleyn, “just exactly what have you been up to?”

“I won’t tell you.”

“Won’t you, Miss Angela? That’s going to make it rather difficult.”

“Oh, come on, Angela,” said Nigel resignedly. “He’ll have to know. Let’s come clean.”