“On the contrary,” said Alleyn, “you have given me a piece of exceedingly valuable information.”

“Really? I mustn’t ask questions, I suppose. Good night.”

“Good night.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Alleyn as Maskelyne

ALLEYN SLEPT HEAVILY and dreamlessly until half-past nine. He had arranged to meet Wade at ten, and the inspector was waiting for him when he came out of the breakfast-room. They walked down to the theatre together.

“I’ve fixed it with old Singleton, Mr. Alleyn. He’ll be there waiting for us. He’s a funny old chap. Dismal Joe, the stage-hands call him; quite an old character in his way, he is, with a great gift of the gab. He says he’s an old actor and I believe it’s a fact, too.”

“Another actor! I remember giving him my name. He seemed rather a rum old article.”

“It’s a theatre show this, isn’t it, sir?”

They walked on in silence, and then Wade said:

“Well, Mr. Alleyn, I hope you’re quite satisfied with the work we’ve done for you.”

“My dear chap, more than satisfied. I’ve never had such a case. All the routine work done by you fellows, and damn’ well done. All I had to do was to pick out the plums.”

“Well sir, as far as we’re concerned it’s been a pleasure. We very much appreciate the way you’ve worked with us, Mr. Alleyn, taking us into your confidence all along. I must say when you rang up last night I got a bit of a surprise. I don’t say we wouldn’t have thrashed it out for ourselves and come to the right conclusion, but we wouldn’t have come there so quick.”

“I’m sure you’d have got there,” said Alleyn cordially. “You fixed up the other business all right, I suppose?”

“Yes. I don’t think there’ll be any trouble. Packer and Cass are there.”

Packer and Cass met them in the theatre yard. Standing just behind them was the doorkeeper to whom Alleyn remembered giving his name on the night of the party. Old Singleton was an extraordinary figure. He was very tall, very bent, and remarkably dirty. His nose was enormous and gloomily purple, he suffered from asthma, and he smelt of whisky.

“Morning, Packer, morning, Cass,” said Alleyn.

“This is Mr. Singleton, Chief Inspector,” said Wade.

“Chief Inspector who, Mr. Wade?” asked Singleton earnestly, in a rumbling wheeze.

“Alleyn.”

“Of New Scotland Yard, London?”

“Yes, Mr. Singleton,” said Alleyn good-humouredly.

“Shake, sir!” exclaimed Mr. Singleton, extending a particularly filthy hand. Alleyn shook it.

“From the Dear Old Town!” continued Mr. Singleton emotionally. “The Dear Old Town!”

“You are a Londoner, Mr. Singleton?”