For an instant, they stood frozen. Then they all leapt for the door, so quickly that Victor and George banged heads, painfully. Daisy opened the door and looked out into the passage. ‘Lights out here too!’
Disentangling himself from Victor, George ran for the hall switch. He clicked it on, but nothing happened. ‘Quick!’ he said, ‘we’ve got to get downstairs!’
He dashed for the lift — but it wasn’t working. ‘They must have cut all the electricity,’ said Daisy.
‘Then we’ll have to use the stairs! Come on!’
It was pitch dark in the stairwell too, so they had to go pretty carefully, especially as Daisy had to hold up her long dress. But they soon reached the ground floor, and ran to the dining room which was also plunged in darkness. People were shouting and yelling. George felt the crunch of something underfoot. ‘Watch out,’ he said, ‘that’s broken glass!’
At that moment, the lights came back on. There was a general gasp of relief, then a gasp of horror. Olivia Marlow was slumped on the floor near her table, a red patch on her white shoulder. There was a rush towards her.
‘Stay back, stay back,’ roared Philip Woodley-Foxe. ‘Is there a doctor in the house?’
Harry Golightly stepped forward. ‘If it’s of any use, I was a medical student before I started the band,’ he said, a little hesitantly. He knelt down beside the actress. ‘I’ll need help to roll her over,’ he said. Volunteers crowded around him. ‘Gently does it,’ he said. ‘Gently.’
Daisy felt a hand on her elbow. It was Mr Meyer. He looked pale and rather dazed. ‘Are you all right, my dear?’
She nodded. ‘What happened here, Mr Meyer?’
‘People were dancing … Then suddenly there was a sound — like a pistol shot — I think a chandelier exploded. Glass went everywhere. Then the lights went out … I heard Olivia Marlow scream for help … and that man’ — he pointed to Woodley-Foxe, ‘I could hear him shouting, stop thief, you’re under arrest!’ He groaned. ‘It was awful … they were after the Blue Moon Diamond, I suppose … and they got it …’
‘Yes,’ began Daisy, but she stopped suddenly as the crowd parted and she saw Olivia Marlow. ‘Look! Victor! George! Mr Meyer! She’s still wearing it!’
It was quite true. The diamond necklace was still on the actress’ neck, but there were red scratches on her skin. Daisy whispered, ‘Look! They must have tried to rip it off her throat! She must have fought them!’
Mr Meyer stared at the actress. ‘Goodness, how odd … how dreadful …’
Olivia Marlow’s eyes opened. They were full of pain. ‘It hurts …’ she croaked.
‘Yes,’ said the band leader, gently. ‘Happily, Miss, the cut on your shoulder is not serious, just a flesh wound from where a flying bit of glass must have struck you. And those scratches are nasty, but they’ll heal quickly. We’ll get you to hospital and have you patched up in a jiffy …’
She looked up into his eyes and tried to smile. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘You are very kind.’ He patted her hand, gently. ‘Don’t think anything of it, Miss Marlow. Try to relax. You are suffering from shock and must rest.’
He turned to the others. ‘She needs to be kept warm. Can I have some coats, please? Furs would be best.’ As people handed them to him, he tucked them around her. ‘Has someone called an ambulance?’ he said, over his shoulder.
‘I will,’ said George, hurrying out. Olivia Marlow closed her eyes, the long lashes lying on her pale skin. She looked very young and vulnerable. The band leader sat close by her.
Woodley-Foxe cleared his throat and announced, ‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask everyone to stay here till I have taken down your names and addresses.’ He ignored the protests. ‘A crime has been committed — or at least attempted — and you are all witnesses.’
‘And just who are you to give such orders?’ That was the Italian, Felici, looking stiff and soldierly.
‘My name is Philip Woodley-Foxe, sir. I’m a private detective. Some of you may have heard of me …’ He paused for the murmur of surprise and recognition, which duly came. ‘My services have been retained by Miss Marlow. I believe that the sudden knowledge of my presence here, as well as Miss Marlow’s courage, may be one reason these criminals were foiled in their aim. Now, please, ladies and gentlemen, this won’t take much of your time at all.’
‘There is something I must tell you,’ said Mr Felici. He walked over to the detective, and said something in his ear. Woodley-Foxe’s eyes narrowed. ‘May I see your credentials, sir?’
The Italian took something out of his coat pocket. He handed it to the detective, who scanned it rapidly.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I will talk to you first, then, sir. Please come this way.’
‘Look at that! He must be a detective, too … or a policeman …’ Daisy said, excitedly.
‘Goodness me,’ said Mr Meyer, rather faintly, ‘how many of them are there here?’
At that moment, the ambulance officers arrived. Gently, they lifted Olivia Marlow onto a stretcher and put a blanket over her. She winced a little and sought Harry Golightly’s hand. There was a pleading look in her eyes. ‘May I escort her to the hospital? I’m a medical student, you see,’ said the band leader.
‘Very well,’ shrugged the ambulance officer. ‘But only you. We don’t need crowds,’ he said, sternly.
‘We can visit later, can’t we?’ said the detective. ‘I will need a statement from Miss Marlow.’
‘Tomorrow,’ said the ambulance man, firmly. ‘Once the doctor’s had a look at her. Now then, sir, are you ready?’
Harry Golightly put on his coat and followed them out of the room.
Daisy frowned. There was something… some detail that she couldn’t quite remember, but which she somehow felt was important. Ah well, if it was important, she’d remember it in time.
‘Let’s get this over with, ladies and gentlemen,’ said Woodley-Foxe, shepherding the guests to the table where George sat ready with paper and pen. Signor Felici had already given his statement and left. Daisy and Victor joined the queue, just behind Mr Meyer.
He said, fretfully, ‘Dear, dear — this is going to take rather a long time …’
‘Well, at least we’ll all have a great story to tell,’ said Victor, gaily. ‘It’s not every day someone tries to steal the Blue Moon!’
Daisy suddenly remembered their captive. ‘Victor! She might have woken up, she might even have escaped!’ She saw Mr Meyer’s startled expression.
‘An intruder I caught … upstairs … in my room … and in Room 21…’ she garbled in explanation.
‘Room 21?’ squeaked Mr Meyer. He had paled. ‘Oh, dear, that’s my room! Oh, and I haff confidential papers from my firm!’ He wrung his hands. ‘I must go up and check nothing is missing! Please tell the detective that I will be back down in a minute!’
‘Wait, Mr Meyer, we’ll come with you,’ said Daisy, but she was speaking to thin air. Mr Meyer had already fled.
‘We’d better tell Mr Woodley-Foxe what we’re doing,’ said Victor, looking over at the detective, who was sifting through the broken glass the staff were sweeping up. As they approached him, he said, ‘Ha! I thought so!’ and held up a cork triumphantly aloft. Daisy and Victor’s eyes met. What was so exciting about a champagne cork?
‘It’s from a pop-gun,’ said Woodley-Foxe, confidently. ‘Someone shot at that chandelier near the bandstand, with a pop-gun. That’s the sound we heard — and it was designed to draw attention to the dance floor, and away from Miss Marlow’s table. If it was found, it could pass, to the uninitiated, as just a cork from a bottle. But those wicked crooks reckoned without Philip Woodley-Foxe!’ His keen eyes gazed into the distance. ‘Ah! I can just see it now, the whole execution of the crime. It was planned very carefully, in a very tight timeframe. There must have been at least three of them in it. One to pick the lock of the switchroom downstairs and put out the lights; one to fire the pop-gun to distract us; and one to attack Miss Marlow.’ At last, when he’d finished speaking, Woodley-Foxe noticed the expression on Daisy and Victor’s faces. ‘What’s the matter?’
After they told him he gave a low whistle. ‘Well, well, well. This backs up my theory. The Shadow is the mastermind behind a whole gang of crooks. I will come with you,’ he said. ‘George can hold the fort. I must speak to this intruder of yours.’