“Little idiot. I’ve no patience. Doing her emotional act all over the room. What business is it of hers?”

“None at all, I should have thought,” said Alleyn comfortably. “Have a cigarette and tell me some scandal. How did she get her job?”

“Who? Gaynes? My dear, through influence, like everybody else nowadays. Her father’s a lessor of our theatre in Town. The girl knows nothing about the business. No poise. No charm. No personality. You were in front, weren’t you? Well! What a naughty performance.”

“I wonder Miss Dacres puts up with it.”

“My dear, she has to. Some leading women don’t mind poor supports, of course. Selfish. But Carolyn Dacres is an artist. Different type altogether,” said Susan, settling her chins.

“Anything between Liversidge and Valerie Gaynes?” asked Alleyn.

“Somebody ought to tell that girl to look after herself,” said Susan darkly. “Not that they’d get any thanks for it. I’ve known Frankie Liversidge a good many years and I wouldn’t care for any daughter of mine to be on those terms with him.”

“Anything in particular wrong with him?” asked Alleyn.

“Well, dear, he’s not—not quite straight, shall we say, especially where women are concerned. But I mustn’t sit here gossiping. It’s all hours of the night as it is. What can I tell you?”

Alleyn asked her about her movements before and after the catastrophe. Like everyone else, she had spent the two significant periods in her dressing-room. At the end of the play she had gone straight there, removed her make-up and changed her dress. Miss Dacres’s dresser had, at old Susan’s invitation, also used the room to smarten herself up for the party.

“She’s a nice woman—been with Miss Dacres for years, and she helped me with my change. The dress I wear in the last act is a beast to get out of. I was only just ready when the last of the guests arrived.”

After the catastrophe Susan had gone to the door of the star-room with Carolyn Dacres and had offered to go in with her.

“She said she’d rather be by herself, so I went on to my own room, dear. Minna—the dresser, you know—came in a little later. Miss Dacres had sent her away too. After a little while Minna said she couldn’t bear to think of her there alone so she went back, and in a minute or two she came for me. The poor child—I mean Miss Dacres, dear, for to me she seems a child—had thought she would like my company. She was sitting there quite quietly, staring in front of her. Shock. Couldn’t talk about it or weep or do anything to ease her mind. Then she suddenly said she’d like to see you. Hailey Hambledon had come in and went to fetch you.”

“How long had he been there, Miss Max?”