She stopped short, and a kind of blankness came into her eyes.

“Oh, what’s the use, anyway,” she said. “I suppose it was about ninety pounds. It’s gone. And that’s that. I mustn’t keep you up, darling Miss Dacres.”

She made for the door. Alleyn opened it.

“If you would like to let me see the leather case—” he said.

“Too sweet of you, but honestly I’m afraid the money’s gone for good.”

“Well, I should let him see it,” said Carolyn, vaguely. “He may be able to trace it directly to the murderous footballer.”

“What murderous footballer?”

“I’ll tell you in the morning, Valerie. Good night. I’m so sorry about your money, but Mr. Alleyn will find it for you as soon as he has time. We’ve all had quite enough excitement for one night. Let us curl up in our horrid little sleepers.”

“Good night,” said Miss Gaynes and went out.

Alleyn looked at Carolyn Dacres. She had shut her eyes as soon as Valerie Gaynes had gone. She now opened one of them. It was a large, carefully made-up eye, and it was fixed on Alleyn.

“Good night, Carol,” said Hambledon. “ ’Night, Alf. Hope you get some sleep. Not much of the night left for it. Don’t worry too much about your adventure.”

“Sleep!” ejaculated Mr. Meyer. “Worry! We get to Middleton in an hour. Scarcely worth trying. I can’t lie down with any hope of comfort and you’d worry if someone tried to kick you off a train on the top of a mountain.”

“I expect I should. Coming, Alleyn?”

“Yes. Good night, Miss Dacres.”

“Good night,” said Carolyn in her deepest voice.

“So long,” said Mr. Meyer bitterly. “Sorry you’ve been troubled.”

Hambledon had already gone out into the little corridor, and Alleyn was in the doorway, when Carolyn stopped him.