“And I,” said Alleyn, “would like to know when Miss Dacres found occasion to snub Mr. Ackroyd, and why?”

“Hullo!” said Wade. “Where d’you get that notion, sir?”

“From the funny gentleman’s behaviour. He radiated a peculiar malevolence that I associate with snubs from the opposite sex.”

“Still, sir, he’d hardly want to involve her in a murder charge, now, would he? And that statement about the tiki—well.”

“It is Hambledon, I fancy, whom he would like to involve.”

Wade chewed this over, eyeing Alleyn with a sort of guarded curiosity.

“Well,” he said at last, ‘we’d better get on. Let’s see: there’s that old lady, Miss Max, and Miss Gaynes, Mr. Liversidge, Mr. Weston, who’s not a member of the company, his cousin, young Palmer (ditto), and Mr. Brandon Vernon. Suppose we see the old girl first, Cass.”

Cass went off.

“Miss Max is an old acquaintance of mine,” said Alleyn; “she was in the Felix Gardener show.”

“Is that so, sir? Well, now, perhaps you would talk to her. I’d like to listen to your methods, sir. We’ve got our own little ideas here about interviews and it’d be very interesting to compare them.”

“Bless me, Wade, I’m afraid you won’t find much to analyse in my remarks, especially to Miss Max. I’ll talk to her if you like, only don’t, for the Lord’s sake, expect fire-works. Here she comes.”

In came old Susan Max. Her roundabout figure was neat in its velveteen evening dress. Her faded blond hair had been carefully dressed for the party, her round honest face with its peculiar pallor, induced by years of grease-paint, had been delicately powdered but not made-up. She looked what she was, an actress of the old school. She waddled forward, her face lighting as she saw Alleyn.

“Well, Miss Max,” said Alleyn, pushing a chair up to the fire, “I’m afraid you’ve had a long wait in the wardrobe-room. Sit down by the fire and cheer us up.”

“Me cheer you up,” said Susan. “I like that.”

She gave a cackle of laughter, but when she looked up at him her faded blue eyes were anxious.

“I never thought we’d meet again—like this,” said old Susan.

“I know,” said Alleyn. “It’s strange, isn’t it?”

“They’ll be calling me a Jonah,” she said. The pudgy old hands moved restlessly in her lap.

“You a Jonah! Not a bit of it. You’ve met Inspector Wade, haven’t you?”

Susan gave Wade a grand nod.

“He’s asked me to have a talk with you about this beastly affair. Do the others still think I’m a harmless civilian?”

“Would you credit it, dear,” said Susan indignantly, “that just before I came along here that girl blurted it all out!”

“Miss Valerie Gaynes?”