“I doubt if I shall enjoy even the soundest vintage years for some time to come,” said Alleyn. “The whole place reeks of it. You can even smell it up here. Great hopping fleas!”

“What’s wrong, sir!”

Alleyn was staring from the counterweight on the rope to those on the platform.

“My dear Wade, we have come within an ace of making the most frightful fools of ourselves. Look at that weight.”

“I am,” said Wade.

“Well, my dear chap, what’s keeping it there?”

“The weight of the—Cripey, sir, the cork blew out and half the champagne with it. That weight ought to be on the stage. It ought to be heavier than the half-empty bottle.”

“Exactly. Therefore it is very much lighter than the full bottle. Therefore it is not the weight they rehearsed with. And what’s more, the original weight must have hung hard by the lower gallery, half-way down to the stage, within easy reach. He didn’t come up here for the first visit. He did his stuff from the lower gallery.”

“You’re right, sir. And if you hadn’t come up the first time, it would have looked more like an accident and less like homicide.”

Alleyn pulled in the rope and grasped it above the weight.

“Nothing like heavy enough,” he said. “It must have been one of the big ones. Well—that’s that. Are we staying aloft, Inspector?”

“I think we’ll go down now, sir. I’ll send Cass up to collect the stuff here. It’ll need careful handling, and I think had better be done by daylight. I’ll leave a man here, of course. Ye-ees.”

Footsteps sounded on the stage below, and voices. They looked down and had a bird’s-eye view of a little procession. The police constable, whom Wade had left mounting guard over Meyer’s body, opened the door in the box set. Through it came Dr. Tancred, Dr. Te Pokiha, and two men with a stretcher. The stretcher was laid on the stage. Tancred looked up into the grid, his hand over his eyes.

“You up there, Inspector?” he called.

“Here I am, Doctor.”

“All right if we move the body?”

“Has Cass got his photos O.K.?”

“Yes.”

“Good-oh, then, doctor.’

They lifted the terrible head. Tancred and Te Pokiha examined it again. It lolled back and seemed to stare up to where the two men watched from above. Pieces of fern were stuck on the face, and it was cut with glass from the broken lights. Te Pokiha brushed the fern away. They hauled the body up from the chair. It seemed to be very heavy. At last they got it on the stretcher and covered it.

“All right,” said Tancred.

They carried Meyer away, the policeman holding the door open. Te Pokiha remained behind.

“Well, we may as well go down,” said Wade.