“I don’t think so. Wait a moment. The last thing I remember before I shut my own eyes was—was looking along the carriage towards the door. I thought they all looked half dead, swaying in their seats with their mouths open. I saw Hailey pick up a paper and hold it sideways to catch the light. His back was towards me, you know. I could see his arm and half the back of his head. That’s the last thing I remember before I fell asleep.”

“And when you woke?”

“Nobody seemed to have moved. It was all rather unreal and smoky and noisy. Then you woke up and began to speak to Hambledon.”

“No one had moved,” murmured Alleyn to himself.

“At least—” Broadhead stopped short.

“Yes?”

“I’ve got a sort of hazy idea someone went down the corridor, past my chair. You know how one gets the impression of things when one dozes in a train. I might have dreamt it. No—I don’t think I did. Someone went past. I think it half-woke me.”

“Do you mean that this person walked back from the direction of the platform at the head of the carriage, or towards it from the rear of the carriage?”

“Back. He was facing me. Probably been to the lav at the rear of the sleeper.”

“He?”

“Yes. I think so. He must have sat down in one of the seats behind me.”

“He may have gone right through.”

“No. I remember waiting for the door to slam. It didn’t. I went to sleep again.”

“Thank you,” said Alleyn. “I’ve no other questions, Inspector Wade.”

“Good-oh, sir.” Wade turned to Broadhead. “What did you do with Mrs. Meyer’s tiki?” he asked.

“What? Nothing. I never had it. Look here, what is all this about that damned little monster? You started it in the wardrobe-room, Mr. Alleyn. What’s the dazzling idea?”

“We simply want to trace the tiki, Mr. Broadhead,” said Wade. “Mrs. Meyer has lost it.”

“She’s also lost a husband,” said Broadhead tartly. “I thought you were looking for a murderer, not a thief.”

“That’s certainly—”

“What’s more, I don’t believe she cares tuppence whether the tiki’s lost or found. What the hell are you driving at? Am I supposed to have pinched the filthy little object? I’ve had about as much as I can stand. You think I stole Val Gaynes’s money, don’t you? You think it’s all a lie about Meyer lending me the cash. You think I’m a thief and a murderer—” His voice rose hysterically. Cass looked perturbed and moved a step or two nearer to Broadhead. Wade stood up hastily.

“Keep off,” shouted Broadhead; “you can’t arrest me—you can’t—”