Oates laughed, a dry little explosive sound expressing friendliness and good humour but no amusement. He was singularly seldom amused.
“I’m questioning you in pursuance of my duties,” he explained laboriously. “What was Konrad up to? Do you know?”
“Up to?” Campion echoed him blankly. “My dear man, why are we playing detectives? Come down to earth. You’ve seen Blest and so you know all Blest knows. I can’t tell you any more, old boy. That’s all there is to it. Konrad had been playing the fool around the theatre and he was on the verge of being found out. That’s the lot.”
“Ah!” The superintendent seemed partially satisfied. “You’ve heard about the way he was killed?”
“I’ve seen the papers. It seems to have been a nasty accident.”
“Oh, it was.” Oates was genuinely moved. “I went down mys
