“No offence in the world. Good night, Mr. Liversidge.”

“Eh?”

“Good night,” repeated Alleyn cheerfully.

Liversidge stared uncomfortably at him and then got to his feet. Wade made a movement and was checked by a glint in Alleyn’s eye.

“Well, so long,” said Mr. Liversidge and went away.

“Let him go,” said Alleyn when the door had slammed, “let him go. He’s so uncomfortable and fidgety. You can get him again when he’s spent a beastly night. He’ll do very nicely for the time being. Let him go.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Miss Gaynes Goes Up-Stage

“NOW, MISS GAYNES,” said Alleyn patiently, “it’s a very simple question. Why not let us have the answer to it?”

Valerie Gaynes lay back in the office arm-chair and stared at him like a frightened kitten. At the beginning of the interview she had been in good histrionic form and, it seemed to Alleyn, thoroughly enjoying herself. She had accounted for her whereabouts during the two crucial periods, she had taken the tiki in her stride, with many exclamations as to its ill-omened significance, she had discoursed at large on the subject of her own temperament, and she had made use of every conceivable piece of theatrical jargon that she could haul into the conversation in order to show them how professional she was. Alleyn had found all this inexpressibly tedious and quite barren of useful information, but he had listened with an air of polite interest, chosen his moment, and put the question that had so greatly disconcerted her:

“What did you and Mr. Liversidge talk about before you left the stage after the final curtain?”

He could have sworn that under her make-up she turned white. Her enormous brown eyes blinked twice exactly as though he had offered to hit her. Her small red mouth opened and literally her whole body shrank back into the chair. Even after he had spoken again, she made no attempt to answer him, but lay there gaping at him.

“Come along,” said Alleyn.

When she did at last muster up her voice it was almost comically changed.

“Why—nothing in particular,” said Miss Gaynes.

“May we just hear what it was?”

She moistened her lips.

“Did Frankie tell you? What did he say?”

“That’s the sort of question we particularly never ask a policeman,” said Alleyn. “I want you to tell me.”

“But—it was just about poor Mr. Meyer—nothing else.”

“Nothing else?”

“I tell you I don’t remember. It was nothing.”

“It wasn’t something very private and personal—between you and Mr. Liversidge?”

“No. Of course not. We haven’t anything—like that—to say.”

“Funny!” said Alleyn. “Mr. Liversidge told us you had.”

Miss Gaynes burst into tears.