“Captain Withers would want to protect me. He’s very, very thoughtful.”

“Can you not understand,” said Alleyn, “that it is greatly to your advantage and his, if you can prove that you both got into his car and drove to the Matador last night?”

“Why? I don’t want it said that—”

“Mrs Halcut-Hackett,” said Alleyn: “Do you want an alibi for yourself and Captain Withers or don’t you?”

She opened her mouth once or twice like a gaping fish, looked wildly at Fox and burst into tears.

Fox got up, walked to the far end of the room, and stared with heavy tact at the second print in the Nightcap series. Alleyn waited while scarlet claws scuffled in an elaborate handbag. Out came a long piece of monogrammed tulle. She jerked at it violently.

Something clattered to the floor. Alleyn darted forward and picked it up.

It was a gold cigarette-case with a medallion set in the lid and surrounded by brilliants.

Mrs Halcut-Hackett dabbed at the pouches under her eyes as if her handkerchief was made of blotting-paper.

“You frighten me,” she said. “You frighten me so. I’m just terrified.”

Alleyn turned the cigarette-case over in his long hands.

“But there is no need to be terrified, none at all. Don’t you see that if you can give me proof that you and Captain Withers motored straight from Marsdon House to the Matador, it clears you at once from any hint of complicity in Lord Robert’s death?”

He waited. She began to rock backwards and forwards, beating her hands together and moving her head from side to side like a well-preserved automaton.

“I can’t. I just can’t. I won’t say anything more. I just won’t say another thing. It’s no good. I won’t say another thing.”

“Very well,” said Alleyn, not too unkindly. “Don’t try. I’ll get at it another way. This is a very magnificent case. The medallion is an old one. Italian Renaissance, I should think. It’s most exquisitely worked. It might almost be Benvenuto himself who formed those minute scrolls. Do you know its history?”

“No. Maurice picked it up somewhere and had it put on the case. I’m crazy about old things,” said Mrs Halcut-Hackett with a dry sob. “Crazy about them.”

Alleyn opened the lid. An inscription read “E. from M. W.” He shut the case but did not return it to her.

“Don’t lose it, Mrs Halcut-Hackett. The medal is a collector’s piece. Aren’t you afraid to carry it about with you?”

She seemed to take heart of grace at his interest. She dabbed again at her eyes and said: “I’m just terribly careless with my things. Perhaps I ought not to use it. Only last night I left it lying about.”

“Did you? Where?”

She looked terrified again the moment he asked her a question.

“Some place at the ball,” she said.

“Was it in the green sitting-room on the top landing?”

“I — yes — I think maybe it was.”

“At what time?”

“I don’t know.”

“During the supper hour didn’t you sit in that room with Captain Withers?”

“Yes. Why not? Why shouldn’t I?” She twisted the handkerchief round her hands and said: “How do you know that? My husband — I’m not — he’s not having me watched?”

“I don’t for a moment suppose so. I simply happened to know that you sat in this room some time just before one o’clock. You tell me you left your cigarette-case there. Now when you came out of that room what did you do?”

“I went into the cloakroom to tidy. I missed the case when I opened my bag in the cloakroom.”

“Right. Now as you went from the green sitting-room to the cloakroom two doors away, did you happen to notice Lord Robert on the landing? Please don’t think I am trying to entrap you. I simply want to know if you saw him.”

“He was coming upstairs,” she said. Her voice and manner were more controlled now.

“Good. Did you hear the dialling sound on the telephone extension while you were in the cloakroom?”

“Yes. Now you remind me I did hear it.”

“When you came out of the cloakroom did you go back for your case?”

“No. No, I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Why? Because I forgot.”

“You forgot it again!”

“I didn’t just forget but I went to the head of the stairs and Maurice was in the other sitting-out room at the stairhead, waiting for me. I went in there, and then I remembered my case and he got it for me.”

“Had the telephone rung off?” asked Alleyn.

“I don’t know.”

“Was anyone else on the landing?”

“I guess not.”

“Not, by any chance, a short rather inconspicuous lady sitting alone?”

“No. There wasn’t anybody on the landing. Donald Potter was in the sitting-room.”

“Was Captain Withers long fetching your case?”

“I don’t think so,” she said nervously. “I don’t remember. I talked to Donald. Then we all went downstairs.”

“Captain Withers did not say whether there was anyone else in the telephone-room when he got the cigarette-case?”

“No, he didn’t say anything about it.”

“Will you be very kind and let me keep this case for twenty-four hours?”

“Why? Why do you want it?”

Alleyn hesitated and at last he said: “I want to see if anybody else recognises it. Will you trust me with it?”

“Very well,” she said. “I can’t refuse, can I?”

“I’ll take great care of it,” said Alleyn. He dropped it in his pocket and turned to Fox who had remained at the far end of the room. Fox’s notebook was open in his hand.

“I think that’s all, isn’t it?” asked Alleyn. “Have I missed anything, Fox?”

“I don’t fancy so, sir.”

“Then we’ll bother you no longer, Mrs Halcut-Hackett,” said Alleyn, standing before her. She rose from her chair. He saw that there was a sort of question in her eyes. “Is there anything you would like to add to what you have said?” he asked.

“No. No. But you said a little while ago that you would find out about what you asked me before. You said you’d trace it another way.”

“Oh,” said Alleyn cheerfully, “you mean whether you went from Marsdon House to the Matador in Captain Withers’s car, and if so, how long it took. Yes, we’ll ask the commissionaire and the man in the office at the Matador. They may be able to help.”

“My God, you mustn’t do that!”

“Why not?”

“You can’t do that. For God’s sake say you won’t. For God’s sake…”

Her voice rose to a stifled, hysterical scream, ending in a sort of gasp. Fox sighed heavily and gave Alleyn a look of patient endurance. Mrs Halcut-Hackett drew breath. The door opened.

A plain girl, dressed to go out, walked into the room.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t know—”

Mrs Halcut-Hackett stared round her with the air of a trapped mastodon and finally blundered from the room as fast as her French heels would carry her.

The door slammed behind her.

The plain girl, who was most beautifully curled, painted and dressed, looked from Alleyn to Fox.

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated nervously. “I’m afraid I shouldn’t have come in. Ought I to go and see if there’s anything I can do?”

“If I were you,” said Alleyn, “I don’t think I should. Mrs Halcut-Hackett is very much distressed over last night’s tragedy and I expect she would rather be alone. Are you Miss Birnbaum?”

“Yes, I am. You’re detectives, aren’t you?”

“That’s us. My name is Alleyn and this is Mr Fox.”

“Oh, how d’you do?” said Miss Birnbaum hurriedly. She hesitated and then gave them her hand. She looked doubtfully into Alleyn’s face. He felt the chilly little fingers tighten their grip like those of a frightened child.

“I expect you’ve found it rather upsetting too, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” she said dutifully. “It’s dreadful, isn’t it?” She twisted her fingers together. “Lord Robert was very kind, wasn’t he? He was very kind to me.”

“I hope your toothache’s better,” said Alleyn.