Collected Short Fiction of Ngaio Marsh

  Golding: Are you sure they were from the defendant?

  Swale: Oh yes. She had in the past written to me complaining about the National Health. It was her writing and signature.

  Golding: What was the nature of the letters to Major Ecclestone?

  Swale: Threatening. I remember in particular the one that said his dog ought to die and if he didn’t act smartly they both would.

  Golding: What view did you take of these letters?

  Swale: A very serious one. They threatened his life.

  Golding: Yes. Thank you, Dr. Swale. (He sits.) (Defense Counsel rises.)

  O’Connor: Dr. Swale, you have known the Ecclestones for some time, haven’t you?

  Swale: Yes.

  O’Connor: In fact you are close friends?

  Swale (after a slight hesitation): I have known them for some years.

  O’Connor: Would you consider Major Ecclestone a reliable sort of man where personal judgments are concerned?

  Swale: I don’t follow you.

  O’Connor: Really? Let me put it another way. If antagonism has developed between himself and another person, would you consider his view of the person likely to be a sober, fair and balanced one?

  Swale: There are very few people, I think, of whom under such circumstances, that could be said.

  O’Connor: I suggest that at the time we are speaking of, a feud developed between Major Ecclestone and the defendant and that his attitude towards her was intemperate and wholly biased. (Pause) Well, Dr. Swale?

  Swale (unhappily): I think that’s putting it a bit strong.

  O’Connor: Do you indeed? Thank you, Dr. Swale. (Defense Counsel sits.)

  Judge: You may leave the witness box, Dr. Swale.

  (Thomas Tidwell is called to the stand. Prosecution Counsel rises.)

  Golding: You are Thomas Tidwell, butcher’s assistant of the West End Butchery, 8 Park Street, Peascale, near Fulchester?

  Tidwell: Yar.

  Golding: On Friday 4th April, did you deliver two parcels of meat at The Elms, No. 1 Sherwood Grove?

  Tidwell: Yar.

  Golding: Would you describe them please?

  Tidwell: Aye?

  Golding: How were they wrapped?

  Tidwell: In paper. (Judge looks.)

  Golding: Yes, of course, but what sort of paper?

  Tidwell: Aye?

  Golding: Were they wrapped in brown paper or in newspaper?

  Tidwell: One of each.

  Golding: Thank you. Did you know, for instance, the contents of the newspaper parcel: what was in it?

  Tidwell: Liver.

  Golding: How did you know that?

  Tidwell (to Judge): It was bloody, wannit? Liver’s bloody. Liver’ll bleed froo anyfink, won’t it? I seen it, din’ I? It’d bled froo the comics.

  (Major half-rises. Prosecution Counsel checks him with a look. Major signals to Usher, who goes to him.)

  Judge: Are you chewing something, Mr. Tidwell?

  Tidwell: Yar.

  Judge: Remove it.

  Golding: You’re sure of this? The wrapping was a page from a comic publication, was it?

  Tidwell: That’s what I said, din’ I? I seen it, din’ I?

  Golding: If I tell you that Major Ecclestone says that the liver was wrapped in sheets from the Daily Telegraph, what would you say?

  Tidwell: ’E wants is ’ead read. Or else ’e was squiffy. (The Major rises and is restrained by the Usher.)

  Golding (glaring at the Major, turning to Tidwell): Yes. Yes. Very good. Now, will you tell the court how you put the parcels away?

  Tidwell: Like I always done. Opened the safe and bunged ’em in, din’ I?

  Golding: Anything at all unusual happen during this visit?

  Tidwell: Naow.

  Golding: You left by the side gate into the right-of-way, didn’t you?

  Tidwell: S’right.

  Golding: This would bring you face to face with the side wall of Miss Freebody’s house. Did you notice anything at all unusual about it?

  Tidwell: Nothin’ unusual. What you might call a regular occurrence. She was snooping. Froo the blind. You know. Froo the slats—you know. Nosey. She’s always at it.

  Golding: Did you do anything about it?

  Tidwell (Turns to accused, gives a wolf whistle and a sardonic salute. She is furious): Just for giggles. (Whistles)

  Golding: Did Miss Freebody react in any way?

  Tidwell: Scarpered.

  Golding: Why should she spy upon you, do you think?

  Tidwell: Me? Not me. I reckon she was waiting for the boyfriend.

  Miss Freebody: How dare you say such things…

  Golding: The boyfriend?

  Tidwell: S’right. (He guffaws and wipes away the grin with his hand.) Pardon me.

  Golding (He has been taken aback by this development but keeps his composure): Yes. Well. I don’t think we need concern ourselves with any visitor the accused may or may not have been expecting.

  Tidwell: Her? Not her. Her.

  Judge: What is all this, Mr. Golding?

  Golding: I’m afraid it’s beyond me, my lord. Some sort of bucolic joke, I imagine.

  (Judge grunts.)

  Golding: That’s all I have to ask this witness, my lord. (He sits down.)

  (Thomas Tidwell makes as if to leave the box. Defense Counsel rises.)

  Judge: Stay where you are, Mr. Tidwell. (He has decided to push this unexpected development a little further.) Mr. Tidwell, when a moment ago you said “not her”—meaning the accused—but “her,” to whom did you refer?

  Tidwell: It’s well-known, innit? His missus.

  Judge: Mrs. Ecclestone?

  Major: What the devil are you talking about?

  Tidwell: S’right. Every Friday, like I said, reg’lar as clockwork.

  Judge: What is as regular as clockwork?

  Tidwell: ’E is. Droppin’ in. On ’er.

  Judge: Who is?

  Tidwell: ’Im. It’s well-known. The doctor.

  Major: God damn it, I demand an explanation. Death and damnation—(Usher moves to restrain the Major.)

  Miss Freebody (laughing): That’s right. You tell them.

  Golding: Major Ecclestone! Sit down.

  Usher: Quiet!

  (The commotion subsides.)

  Judge: For the last time, Major Ecclestone, I warn you that unless you can behave yourself with propriety you will be held in contempt of court. Mr. Golding.

  Golding: My lord, I do apologize. Major, stand up and apologize to his Lordship. (The Major mutters.) Stand up then, and do it. Go on.

  Major (He looks as if he will spontaneously combust. He rises, blows out his breath, comes to attention and bellows in court-martial tones): Being under orders to do so, I tender my regrets for any apparently overzealous conduct of which I may appear to have been unwittingly guilty.

  Judge: Very well. Sit down and—and—and imagine yourself to be gagged. (The Major sits. He is troubled with indigestion.) Yes, Mr. O’Connor…

  O’Connor: Now, Mr. Tidwell, you say, do you, that you know positively that Dr. Swale visited Major Ecclestone’s house after you left it?

  Tidwell: ’Course I do.

  O’Connor: How do you know?

  Tidwell: I seen ’im, din’ I?

  O’Connor: What time was this?

  Tidwell: Free firty.

  O’Connor: Describe where you were and precisely how you saw Dr. Swale.

  Tidwell: I’m on me bike in the lane, arn’ I, and I bike past ’is car and ’e’s gettin’ aht of it, inn’e? (O’Connor signs for him to address the Judge. He does so.) I turn the corner and I park me bike and come back and look froo the rear window of the car and see ’im turn into the right-of-way. (He giggles.)

  O’Connor: Go on.

  Tidwell (still vaguely to the Judge): Like I see ’im before. Other Fridays. “Ullo, ullo, ullo!” I says. “At it again?” So I nips back to the turning into the right-of-way, stroll up very natural and eas
y and see ’im go in at the garden gate. And let ’imself in by the back door, carryin’ ’is little black bag. No excuse me’s. Very much at ’ome. Oh dear!

  O’Connor: And then?

  Tidwell: I return to bizzness, don’ I? Back to the shop and first with the news.

  O’Connor: Thank you.

  (He sits. Prosecution Counsel rises.)

  Golding: Did you notice the accused’s bathroom window while you were engaged in this highly distasteful piece of espionage?

  Tidwell: ’Ow does the chorus go?

  Golding: I beg your pardon?

  Tidwell: I don’ get cher.

  Golding: While you were spying on Dr. Swale, could you and did you see the accused’s bathroom window?

  Tidwell: Oh, ar! I get cher. Yar. I seen it. And ’er, snooping as per, froo the blind.

  Golding: Dr. Swale carried his professional bag, I think you said?

  Tidwell: S’right.

  Golding: And he went straight into the house? Without pausing, for instance, by the safe?

  Tidwell: I couldn’t see the safe, where I was, could I? But ’e went in.

  Golding: Quite so. To his patient who was ill upstairs.

  Tidwell: Oh, yeah?

  Golding: I have one more question. Do you deliver meat at the accused’s house?

  Tidwell: Yar.

  Golding: When was your last call there, previous to the 4th April?

  Tidwell: Free days before. She gets ’er order reg’lar on Wednesdays.

  Golding: Do you remember what it was?

  Tidwell: Easy. Chops. Bangers. And—wait for it, wait for it.

  Golding: Please answer directly. What else?

  Tidwell: Liver.

  PART TWO

  Golding: I call Mrs. Ecclestone.

  Usher: Mrs. Ecclestone.

  (Mrs. Ecclestone comes in with the Usher. Enters the box and takes the oath. While she is doing so we see Dr. Swale and the Major and then the accused, leaning forward and staring at her. Mrs. Ecclestone is a singularly attractive woman, beautifully dressed and aged about thirty-five. There is a slight stir throughout the court At the end of the oath, she makes a big smile at the Judge.)

  Golding: You are Mrs. Ecclestone? (She assents.) What are your first names, please?

  Mrs. Ecclestone: Barbara Helen.

  Golding: And you live at The Elms, No. 1 Sherwood Grove, Fulchester?

  Mrs. Ecclestone: Yes.

  Golding: Thank you. Mrs. Ecclestone, I want you to tell his Lordship and the jury something of the relationship between you and the accused. Going back, if you will, to the time when you first came to live in your present house.

  Mrs. Ecclestone: We used to see her quite often in her garden and—and—

  Golding: Yes?

  Mrs. Ecclestone: And in her house.

  Golding: You visited her there?

  Mrs. Ecclestone: We could see her at the windows. Looking out.

  Golding: Did you exchange visits?

  Mrs. Ecclestone: Not social visits. She came in not long after we arrived to—to—

  Golding: Yes?

  Mrs. Ecclestone: Well, to complain about Bang.

  Golding: The Alsatian?

  Mrs. Ecclestone: Yes. He’d found some way of getting into her garden.

  Golding: Was that the only time she complained?

  Mrs. Ecclestone: No, it wasn’t. She—well, really, she was always doing it. I mean—well, hardly a week went by. It was about then, I think, that she first complained to the police. They came to see us. After that we took every possible care. We put a muzzle on Bang when he wasn’t tied up and made sure he never went near Miss Freebody’s place. It made no difference to her behavior.

  Golding: Would you say that the complaints remained at much the same level or that they increased in intensity?

  Mrs. Ecclestone: They became much more frequent. And vindictive. And threatening.

  Golding: In what way threatening?

  Mrs. Ecclestone (to Judge, a nervous smile): Oh—notes in our letter box—waylaying us in the street—saying she would go to the police. That sort of thing. And when we were in the garden she would go close to her hedge and say things we could hear. Meaning us to hear them. Threats and abuse. (The Judge is nodding.)

  Golding: What sort of threats?

  Mrs. Ecclestone: Well—actually to do my husband an injury. She said he wasn’t fit to live and she said in so many words she’d see to it that he didn’t. It was very frightening. We thought she must be—well, not quite right in the head.

  Golding: Coming to Friday 28th March (She looks uncertain) — was there any further incident?

  (Miss Freebody sits forward.)

  Mrs. Ecclestone: Oh — you mean the cat. I didn’t remember the exact date.

  Golding: But you remember the event?

  Mrs. Ecclestone: Oh yes, I do. It was dreadful. I was horrified. (She puts her head in her hands) I was—I was so deeply sorry and terribly upset. I wanted to go in and tell her so.

  Golding: And did you do so?

  Mrs. Ecclestone: No. Basil — my husband — thought it better not.

  Golding: And after this incident, what happened between you and the accused?

  Mrs. Ecclestone: It was worse than ever, of course. She complained again; she telephoned several times a day and wrote threatening letters. My husband burnt them but I remember one said something like vengeance being done not only on the dog but on himself.

  Golding: Yes. And now, Mrs. Ecclestone, we come to the 4th April. The day when the dog was poisoned. (Gestures to her)

  Mrs. Ecclestone: I heard it happening—I was in my bedroom—and I got up and looked through the window. And saw. My husband shouted for me to come down. I went down and by then Bang was—dead. My husband told me to ring up Jim Swale — Dr. Swale — and ask him to come at once. And he did.

  Golding: What happened then?

  Mrs. Ecclestone: They looked in the safe and Dr. Swale said we should destroy the rest of the meat in case it was contaminated. So we did. In the incinerator.

  Golding: How was the other meat wrapped? In what sort of paper?

  Mrs. Ecclestone: Like the other — in newspaper.

  Golding: You are sure? Not in brown paper?

  Mrs. Ecclestone: No — I’m sure I remember noticing when we burnt it. It was the front page of the Telegraph.

  Golding: Thank you. And then?

  Mrs. Ecclestone: Dr. Swale suggested getting the vet, but my husband wanted him to cope and he very kindly said he would. I was feeling pretty ghastly by then (smiles at Judge), so he asked me to go back to my room and I did. And he had a look at me before he left and gave me one of my pills. I didn’t go downstairs again that evening. (She hesitates.) I think perhaps I ought to say that there was never any doubt in our minds—any of us—about who had put the poisoned meat in the safe.

  O’Connor: My lord, I must object.

  Mrs. Ecclestone: After all, it was what had been threatened, wasn’t it?

  Judge: Yes, Mr. O’Connor. (To Mrs. Ecclestone) You may not talk about what you think was in the minds of other persons, madam.

  Mrs. Ecclestone: I’m sorry.

  Golding: When do you think the meat was poisoned?

  Mrs. Ecclestone: It must have been after the butcher delivered the order, of course.

  Golding: Have you any idea of the time of the delivery?

  Mrs. Ecclestone: As it happens, I have. The church clock struck three just as he left.

  Golding: Did you hear any sounds of later arrivals?

  Mrs. Ecclestone (hesitating): I — no — no, I didn’t. (Rapidly) But of course it would be perfectly easy for somebody to watch their chance, slip across the right-of-way. Nobody would see. My bedroom curtains were closed because I darken my room when I have a migraine.

  (Grin from Tidwell to Swale)

  Golding: Yes. Had you seen anything of the accused during the day?

  Mrs. Ecclestone: Yes, indeed I had. That morning the paper boy del
ivered her Telegraph with our Times. I didn’t want to see her; I slipped out by our front gate and up to her front door. I was going to put her Telegraph through the flap when the door opened and there she was. Stock still and sort of glaring over my head.

  Golding: That must have been disconcerting.

  Mrs. Ecclestone: It was awful. It seemed to last for ages, and then I held out her paper and she snatched it.

  Golding: Did she speak?

  Mrs. Ecclestone: She whispered.

  Golding: What did she whisper?

  Mrs. Ecclestone: That I needn’t imagine this would stop justice from taking its course. And then the door was slammed in my face.

  Miss Freebody: Quite right.

  Golding: And then?

  Mrs. Ecclestone: I went back. And my migraine started.

  Golding: Mrs. Ecclestone, do you know what happened to the wrapping paper round the dog’s liver?

  Mrs. Ecclestone: Yes. My husband had dropped it on the ground and Jim — Dr. Swale — said it shouldn’t be left lying about and he put it into the incinerator.

  Golding: Did you notice what paper it was?

  Mrs. Ecclestone: It was the same as the other parcel — the Daily Telegraph.

  Golding: Thank you.

  (He sits. Defense Counsel rises.)

  O’Connor: Mrs. Ecclestone, anybody could have come and gone through the right-of-way and through the garden gate and replaced one parcel of liver by another?

  Mrs. Ecclestone: I suppose they could have.

  O’Connor: Your husband has a lot of enemies in the neighborhood apart from Miss Freebody, hasn’t he?

  Mrs. Ecclestone (deprecatingly): Oh — enemies!

  O’Connor: Let me put it another way. There had been a number of complaints about the dog from other neighbors, hadn’t there?

  Mrs. Ecclestone: None of them threatened to kill my husband. Hers did.

  O’Connor: Did other persons, apart from Miss Freebody, write letters and complain to the police?

  Mrs. Ecclestone: There were some, I think.

  O’Connor: How many?

  Mrs. Ecclestone: I don’t know.

  O’Connor: Two? Three? Four? Half a dozen? More?

  Mrs. Ecclestone: No. No. I don’t know. I don’t remember.

  O’Connor: How very odd. Had the dog ever attacked any of your friends? (She is silent) Dr. Swale, for instance?

  Mrs. Ecclestone: Bang was rather jealous. Alsatians can be.

  O’Connor: Jealous, Mrs. Ecclestone? Do you mean jealous of you? Did the dog resent anyone paying you particular attention, for example?