“Well,” said Alleyn, “having worked off my professional facetiousness, let’s get down to it. In your list of properties offstage is there a typewriter?”

“There is. A Remington used in the first and last act.”

“Where’s it kept?”

“In the property-room, between whiles. I think they re-set the first act after the show, as a rule, so it would be on the stage when they all got down to the theatre, and in the property-room after the last act. We tested it for prints first just in case it might be in the picture. It showed Mr. Gardener’s on the keys, and Props’s prints at the sides, where he had carried it on.”

“The fingerprint system’s too well advertised nowadays for the poorest criminal to fall directly foul of it. Who used the typewriter in the last act? Oh, I remember — Gardener. Just let me get a copy of the letter and then give it to Bailey, will you, Fox? And get him to test the typewriter again. No, I’m not dotty. And now I must get things in order for the inquest. Thank the Lord it’s a presentable coroner.”

“Ah,” agreed Fox heavily. “You may say that.”

“How do you mean?” Nigel asked.

“Some of them,” said Alleyn, “I positively believe, keep black caps in their hip pockets. Tiresome old creatures. However, this one is a sensible fellow, and we’ll be through in no time.”

“I’ll get back to Fleet Street,” said Nigel. “I’m meeting Felix and going to the inquest with him. His lawyer is going to be there.”

“I expect there’ll be a covey of ’em. My spies tell me St. Jacob has employed Phillip Phillips to watch the wheels go round. He’s a brother of Phillips, K. C., who did St. Jacob so proud in the libel action. Very big game afoot.”

“Well,” said Nigel at the door, “we meet—”

“At Phillipi, in fact. Au revoir, Bathgate.” Nigel spent a couple of hours in his office, writing up cameo portraits of the leading characters in the case. His chief expressed himself as being not displeased with the stories, and Nigel, at twenty to eleven, went underground to Sloane Square, and thence to Gardener’s flat. The lawyer, a young and preternaturally solemn one, was already there. They discussed a glass of sherry and Nigel attempted to enliven the occasion with a few facetiae, which did not go down particularly well. The lawyer, whose unsuitably Congrevian name was Mr. Reckless, eyed him owlishly, and Gardener was too nervous and upset to be amused. They finished their sherry, and sought a taxi.

The inquest proved, on the whole, a disappointment to the crowds of people who attended it. Very little information as regards police activity came out. Alleyn gave a concise account of the actual scene in the theatre, and was treated with marked respect by the coroner. Nigel watched his friend, and experienced something of the sensation that visited him as a small boy, when the chief god of Pop walked on to a dais and grasped the hand of Royalty. Alleyn described the revolver, and the cartridges—.455.

“Did you notice anything remarkable about either the weapon or the cartridges?” asked the coroner.

“They were the regulation.455, used in that type of Smith and Wesson. There were no fingerprints.”

“A glove had been used?”

“Probably.”

“What about the dummy cartridges?”

Alleyn described them, and said he had found traces of sand from the faulty cartridge in the prompt corner, and in both drawers.

“What do you deduce from that?”

“That the property master gave the dummies to the stage manager, who put them as usual in the top drawer.”

“You suggest that someone afterwards moved them to the second drawer, replacing them with genuine cartridges?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is there anything else you noted as regards the cartridges?”

“I saw whitish stains on them.”

“Have you any explanation for this?”

“I believe them to be caused by a certain cosmetic used as a hand make-up by actresses.”

“Not by actors?”

“I imagine not. There was none in the actors’ dressing-rooms.”

“You found bottles of this cosmetic in the actresses’ dressing-rooms?”

“I did.”

“Are the contents of these bottles all alike?”

“Not precisely.”

“Could you distinguish from which, if any, of these bottles, the stains on the revolver had come?”

“An analysis shows that it came from the star dressing-room. A bottle of cosmetic had been spilt there, earlier in the evening.”

“The star dressing-room is used — by whom?”

“By Miss Stephanie Vaughan and her dresser. Miss Vaughan received visits from other members of the company during the evening. I myself called on Miss Vaughan, before the first act. The cosmetic was not spilt then. I met, in this room, the deceased, who appeared to be under the influence of alcohol.”

“Will you describe to the jury your investigations, immediately after the tragedy?”

Alleyn did so, at some length.

“You searched the stage. Did you find anything that threw any light on the matter?”

“I found a pair of gloves in a bag that had been used on the stage, and I found the dummy cartridges in a lower drawer of the desk.”

“What did you remark about the gloves?”

“One had a white stain which, on analysis, proved to be similar to that on the cartridges.”

This statement caused a stir among the onlookers. Alleyn’s evidence went on for some time. He described his interviews with the performers, and said they had all since signed the notes taken at the time of their statements. This was news to Nigel, who wondered how they had reacted to the evidence of his activities. Alleyn said little about the subsequent investigations by the police, and was not pressed to do so by the coroner, who left him a very free hand.

Felix Gardener was called. He was very pale, but gave his evidence clearly. He admitted ownership of the revolver, said it was his brother’s, and added that he gave the six cartridges to the property man, who converted them into dummies.

“Did you visit Miss Vaughan’s dressing-room before the fatality?”

“Yes. I was there with Chief Detective-Inspector Alleyn, who visited me with a friend, before the first act. I did not return after the first act.”

“Did you notice a bottle of white cosmetic upset on the dressing-table?”

“No, sir.”

“Mr. Gardener, will you describe the actual scene when you fired the revolver?”

Gardener did so. His voice shook over this, and he was very pale.

“Did you realize at once what had happened?”

“Not at once, I think,” Gardener answered. “I was dazed with the report of the revolver. I think it flashed through my mind that one of the blanks, fired in the wings, had got into the chamber of the gun.”

“You continued in the character of your part?”

“Yes,” said Gardener in a low voice. “Quite automatically. Then I began to realize. But we went on.”

“We?”

Gardener hesitated.

“Miss Vaughan was also on, in that scene.”

A pair of grey suede gloves was produced, to the infinite satisfaction of the onlookers.

“Are those your property?”

“No.” Gardener looked both surprised and relieved.

“Have you seen them before?”

“ ‘No. Not to my knowledge.”

The anonymous letter was produced, and identified by Gardener, who described how it arrived and explained the reference to his “sore foot.”

“Did you get any impression of the identity of the person who trod on your foot?”

Gardener hesitated, and glanced at Alleyn.

“I received a vague impression, but afterwards decided it was not definite enough to count for anything.”

“Whom did this impression suggest?”

“Must I answer that?”

He looked again towards Alleyn.

“You told Chief Detective-Inspector Alleyn of this impression?”

“Yes. But I added that it really was not reliable.”

“What name did you mention?”

“None. Inspector Alleyn asked if I noticed a particular scent. I thought I had done so.”