The rest of the company was already backstage and the houselights were on as we hurried down the central aisle of the grand theatre at the heels of the actor's party. The curtain was up and a motley looking crowd of people in ordinary clothes stood about languidly or sat sprawled in chairs on an opulent set with French windows, which represented the drawing room of a large country house. I saw with amusement that the layout was extremely similar to that of the drawing room of Hardcastle's own Surrey home and the fact was obviously not lost on Pons.
Hardcastle looked back over his shoulder and seemed to read my companion's thoughts.
"Seems familiar, does it not, Mr. Pons? We have to do this or my wife would not know where she was."
I saw a momentary expression of irritation pass across Sandra Stillwood's mobile features and put it down to Hardcastle’s remark but I then noticed that the tall, regal form of Dolly Richmond was standing center stage, waiting for our party to come up.
I had never seen a professional play in production before and the next two hours passed in a blur. What seemed chaotic to me seemed natural to Hardcastle and his company, and in an astonishingly short space of time, it seemed, the players were reading their lines, the producer was lounging in a front-row seat shouting instructions and exhortations to humbler members of the cast and Hardcastle, Miss Stillwood and Miss Richmond were engaged in more dignified conferences with the producer and the play's backer.
Pons had watched all this for half an hour or so, chuckling now and again at particular pieces of business, but I had noted his deep, piercing eyes raking all round the theatre. Later, I became dimly aware that he had disappeared and when I glanced back saw indeed that his seat was empty. From far off came the hammer of carpenters and all the bustle of a great theatre and I imagined him prowling restlessly about backstage.
I thought it best to remain where I was, as I should otherwise only disturb him, and in mid-afternoon saw his own dramatic form in a stage box looking down somewhat sardonically upon the turmoil below. The play, as our client had hinted, was an exciting affair and I noticed a sort of tension which seemed to grip the cast as they approached the climactic scene in the last act in which Hardcastle met his end in the dramatic death which gave the play its title.
I noticed a shadow at the corner of my eye as someone sat down on my right. At first I thought it was Pons but immediately picked him out in another stage box, evidently measuring the distance from it to the stage. I saw immediately what he was at and felt relief; the danger to Hardcastle, if any, would undoubtedly come from such a box though I had no doubt that the stage management would open them only to known persons on opening night.
I looked over and saw that it was Hardcastle's business manager, Ayres, who leaned across to me, his eyes gleaming.
"It looks as though we shall have a great success here, doctor, does it not?"
I hastened to agree but added a rider to the effect that it all depended on such events as had occurred at Liverpool being prevented in future.
Ayres nodded gloomily.
"You're right there, doctor. It's a terrible business. Unfortunately there are only too many people who would like to see Elijah out of lt."
I turned to him and looked at the worldly face surmounted by the graying hair so close to mine.
"Would you care to enlarge on that, Mr. Ayres."
The business manager shrugged.
"I've told Elijah about it, often enough. There's women… and their husbands. It's always trouble in the theatre."
He made an expressive gesture with his hand as though he were cutting his own throat which I felt somewhat lacking in taste.
"Perhaps," I said cautiously. "But these situations occur in many other walks of life."
Ayres smiled without mirth.
"Correct, doctor. But you do not know actors as I do. If I told you a quarter of what I have seen in my time you would be astonished. Jealousy and yet more jealousy! It passes all belief."
I hesitated and then gave utterance to my thoughts.
"You suspect someone specific?"
The business manager gave me a crooked wink.
"It would not be fair to say. But you can take it from me there is a wide choice of both sexes."
My attention was dramatically drawn back to the stage at this point by some extraordinary noises; the lights were down and the stage bathed in that mysterious half-light which one gets only in the theatre. A monstrous shadow from the French windows had enveloped Hardcastle who, in his character as the heartless philanderer, was dying of manual strangulation at the hands of a cloaked figure who held a wire loop around his neck.
Hardcastle was giving a magnificent performance. With his tongue lolling from his mouth and his eyes rolling, he looked an horrific spectacle as he thrashed about helplessly, emitting terrifying choking noises. Presently he dropped to the ground and was still. There was a thin ripple of applause from the other actors and the technicians, and the cloaked figure stepped forward into the light to reveal the beautiful and flushed face of Dolly Richmond. She stood there, her eyes blazing with triumph, as the curtain slowly fell.
I must admit my own palms stung as a spontaneous burst of applause burst forth. The next moment the curtain had risen again and both Hardcastle and Miss Richmond, hand in hand, were ironically acknowledging the acclamation. I found Pons back behind me again.
"Admirable is it not, Parker," he commented drily. "The thespian art has a good deal to commend it in these days of mindless and mechanical entertainment."
"They are certainly playing well for rehearsal, Pons," I said. "The effect should be tremendous on the opening night."
"That is evidently what our unknown friend is hoping for," said Pons soberly. "In my opinion this would be the exact moment; the lights down, everyone concentrating on the two dim figures. That is our Achilles heel, Parker, and somehow I have to pinpoint the greatest moment of danger and protect our client's life."
"It is a fearful responsibility."
"But I am convinced that the opening night is what we have to fear and we must make plans accordingly."
Pons rose from his seat and drew me to the back of the theatre, which was now filled with the buzz of animated conversation.
"Let us just circulate a little. I have learned an astonishing amount of information about the lives of our client and his wife, not to mention the other members of the company."
Pons had sparks of irony in his eyes as he looked at me mockingly. We were in the foyer of the theatre now and he led the way through the empty bar to a narrow corridor that ran along the side of the building. On one side it led to the emergency exits; the other wall was pierced by doors at intervals, which led back into the theatre.
"You seem to know your way around remarkably well," I said.
"I have the advantage of a plan of the building. It will be vitally necessary to know the layout thoroughly by the opening night."
"You are convinced the killer will strike, then?"
"Undoubtedly, my dear fellow. The accidental death of the other actor will have made him more determined than ever."
"But supposing the whole charade were merely a cover for the murder which has already taken place?"
Solar Pons looked at me shrewdly as he motioned me through the far door of the corridor into a dusty passage beneath the stage.
"You constantly astonish me, Parker. This time you have excelled yourself."
"I thought my supposition quite ingenious myself, Pons," I said with a somewhat justifiable glow of pride.
We were going up a narrow spiral staircase railed with an iron balustrade.
"I had already given that matter a great deal of consideration," said my companion over his shoulder. "To that effect I have been in touch with the Liverpool police. There is nothing at all in Stanwell's background to merit such treatment. He was an inoffensive bachelor who had few friends: his death would have benefited no one. The threat to Hardcastle is genuine enough."