“My dear,” said Susan resignedly, “I dare say something did happen. I rather think it did, but if we knew all the circumstances I’ve no doubt we’d find faults on both sides. George Mason started in a small way and he’s not the only one, by a long chalk, that’s got an incident of that sort to live down. My advice to you is, forget all about it. Whatever happened in the early days, he’s an honest man now. I’ve worked for him for a good many years and you can take my word for it. And what’s more, I wouldn’t say the same for Ackroyd.”

“I see,” said Alleyn.

“Anything more?” asked Susan.

“I don’t think so. Thank you so much. Perhaps Inspector Wade—”

“No thanks, sir, no thanks,” said Wade, getting up from the desk where he had sat in silence. “Unless—the train—?”

“Miss Max sat opposite me. She slept all the time, I fancy.”

“The train!” ejaculated Susan.

Alleyn explained.

“Yes,” said Susan, “I was asleep. Do you mean you think that business on the train had something to do with this?”

“Who can tell?” murmured Alleyn vaguely. “You’re longing to get home to your bed, aren’t you?”

“Well, I am.”

She hitched herself off the chair and waddled to the door. Alleyn opened it. She stood, a roundabout and lonely little figure, looking up at him very earnestly.

“In that other case in London someone nearly killed you by dropping a chandelier from the grid, didn’t they?”

“So they did.”

“You don’t think it’s—it’s given anyone an idea?” Alleyn stared at her.

“I wonder,” he said.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Liversidge Fluffs His Lines

“WHAT WAS SHE driving at?” asked Wade when Susan had gone.

“Oh—the Gardener case. A neurotic property-man dumped half a ton of candelabra on the stage in a childish attempt to distract my attention. Later on he became victim No. 2, poor booby. Knew too much. It all came out in the evidence. I imagine they take a lot of trouble when men are working aloft. I remember the stage-manager told me the hands always have their tools tied to their wrists, in case of accidents.”

“Well, sir, you got some nice little bits out of the old lady. Of course her being a friend made a difference.”

“Of course,” agreed Alleyn cordially.

“Do you reckon there’s anything in this story of Ackroyd’s about Mason stranding a company in America?”

“I am inclined to agree with Miss Max’s opinion of Ackroyd as a witness, but we’d better look into Mr. Mason’s history, of course. I’ll get them to do that at the Yard.”

“Ackroyd means Mason walked out and left his company cold?”

“Yes. Not an unusual proceeding with small companies, I fancy, in the old days. A dirty trick, of course.”