“My good ass,” advised Alleyn, “don’t put ideas in our heads and don’t dramatise yourself. As you have suggested, this is a serious matter. Nobody’s trying to arrest you. Inspector Wade has asked you a perfectly reasonable question. Why not answer it?”

“There now, Mr. Broadhead,” said Wade, “that’s the way to look at it.”

“I suppose,” said Broadhead more quietly, “you’ve heard all about the scene in the wardrobe-room. I suppose your distinguished colleague has told you what that little stinker Palmer said about me.”

“And all about your subsequent attempt upon the stinker,” murmured Alleyn. “Yes.”

“Don’t you think it was a pretty foul thing to sit there as if you were one of us, playing the spy, all agog to report to the police? Don’t you? Don’t you think it would have been the decent thing to say—to say—”

“To say,” suggested Alleyn helpfully: “‘I’m a detective, so if one of you killed this very honest little gentleman whom you all profess to admire so much, don’t do anything to give yourself away.’ No, Mr. Broadhead.”

“My God, I was as fond of him as any of them. He was a damn’ good friend to me.”

“Then,” said Alleyn, “see if you can help Inspector Wade to trace the little greenstone tiki.”

“Oh, hell!” said Broadhead. “All right! All right! Though what the suffering cats it’s got to do with the case—All right. Go ahead.”

“Well, now,” said Wade. “I understand you all took a look at this tiki before you sat down to supper. Did you handle it, Mr. Broadhead?”

“Yes. I had it in my hand for a moment. Someone took it from me.”

“Who?”

“I think it was Frankie Liversidge. I’m not sure. It was passed round.”

“Yes. Now, Mr. Broadhead, I want you to go back to the end of the performance, last night. Were you acting right up to the finish?”

“Acting!” said Broadhead distastefully. “No, I wasn’t ‘acting.’ I finished just before Miss Dacres’s big scene.”

“What did you do then?”

“Stood in the wings for the company call at the curtain.”

“Then you were acting, as you might say,” insisted Wade crossly.

“If you call hanging about off-stage—”

“Let it go. After the play was over, what did you do?”

“Bolted to the dressing-room and took off my make-up.”

“Anyone with you?”

“Yes. Vernon and Frankie Liversidge.”

“All the time?”

“Vernon and I went back together. Frankie came in a minute or two later, I think. And Ackroyd joined us before we went along to the party.”

“All right. Now after the accident I understand that at the suggestion of Dr. Te Pokiha and the chief inspector here, you all went to your dressing-rooms and later to the wardrobe-room. Did you go directly to the wardrobe-room, Mr. Broadhead?”

“No. I went into my dressing-room on the way.”

“What for?”