“The Firm is all right, I suppose? Financially, I mean?”

“I believe so,” answered Vernon. There was an overtone in his voice that suggested a kind of guardedness.

“Any doubt at all about that?” asked Alleyn.

“There are always rumours about managements like ours. I have heard a certain amount of gossip about some of the touring companies. They are supposed to have dropped money for the Firm. Then there was Time Payment. That did a flop. Still, Inky-P. has stood a flop or two in its time.”

“Were all Mr. Meyer’s interests bound up in the Firm, do you know?”

“I don’t know anything about it. George Mason could tell you that, probably. Alfred was a very shrewd business man and he and Carolyn are not the social spotlight hunters that most of ’em are nowadays. They lived very quietly. The theatre before everything. I should say Alfred had saved money. Only a guess, you know.”

“I know. It’ll all appear now, of course.”

“What puzzles me, Mr. Alleyn, is who on earth would want to do in Alfred Meyer. None of us, you’d have thought. Shops aren’t found so easily that we can afford to kill off the managers.” He paused and rolled his eyes round. “I wonder,” he said, “if that accident on Friday morning gave anybody the big idea.”

“What accident?” asked Alleyn sharply.

“The morning we got here. Didn’t you hear about it? One of the staff was up in the flies fixing the weight for the mast. The head mechanist and Ted Gascoigne were down below on the stage, having an argument. Suddenly the gentleman in the flies got all careless and dropped the weight. It fell plumb between the two men and crashed half through the stage. Ted Gascoigne raved at the poor swine for about ten minutes, and Fred—the head mechanist—nearly ate him. We all rushed out to see the fun. God, they were a sight! White as paper and making faces at each other.”

“Good Lord!” said Alleyn.

“Yes. It would have laid him out for keeps if it had hit one of ’em. Great leaden thing like an enormous sash-weight and as heavy—”

“As heavy, very nearly, as a jeroboam of champagne,” finished Alleyn. “It was used, afterwards, as a counterweight for the bottle.”

“Was it really!” exclaimed Vernon.

“Didn’t you know how they fixed the gear for the bottle?”

“I heard poor old Alfred holding forth on the subject, of course, but I’m afraid I didn’t pay much attention.”

“You all knew about the mishap with the counterweight?”

“Oh God, yes. Everyone came out helter-skelter. It shook the building. George ran along from the office, Val Gaynes flew out of her dressing-room in a pair of scanties. The two Australians nearly threw in their parts and returned to Sydney. It was a nine days’ wonder.”