Ngaio Marsh - Death At The Bar

  "Write it down. You'll get no other answer. Write it down." "Thank you, miss,"said Fox civilly. "I don't think I've missed anything. I've got it down." n

  "Well, have you finished? "demanded Decima, who had succeeded in working herself up into a satisfactory temper. "Is there anything else you want to know? Do you want a list in alphabetical order of my encounters with any other little Luke Watchmans who have come my way? " "No,"said Alleyn. "No. We limit our impertinences to the police code. Our other questions are, I hope, less offensive. They concern the brandy you gave Mr. Watchman, the glass into which you poured it, and the bottle from which it came." "All right. What about them? " "May we have your account of that particular phase of the business? " "I told Oates and I told the coroner. Someone suggested brandy. I looked round and saw Luke's glass on the table, between the settle where he lay and the dartboard.

  There wasn't any brandy left in it. I saw the bottle on the bar. I was very quick about it. I got it and poured some into the glass. I did not put anything but brandy in the glass. I can't prove I didn't, but I didn't." "But perhaps we can prove it. Was anyone near the table? Did anyone watch you pour the brandy? " "Oh. God! "said Decima wearily, "how should I know? Sebastian Parish was nearest to the table. He may have noticed. I don't know. I took the glass to Luke.

  I waited for a moment while Abel Pomeroy put iodine on Luke's finger, and then I managed to pour a little brandy between his lips. It wasn't much. I don't think he even swallowed it, but I suppose you won't believe that." "Miss Moore,"said Alleyn suddenly, "I can't tell you how pathetically anxious we are to accept the things people tell us."He hesitated and then said, "You see, we spend most of our working life asking questions. Can you, for your part, believe that we get a kind of sixth sense and sometimes feel very certain indeed that a witness is speaking the truth, or, as the case may be, is lying? We're not allowed to recognize our sixth sense, and when it points a crow's flight towards the truth we may not follow it. We must cut it dead and follow the dreary back streets of collected evidence. But if they lead us anywhere at all it is almost always to the same spot." "Eminently satisfactory,"said Decima. "Everything for the best in the best of all possible police forces." "That wasn't quite what I meant. Was it after you had given him the brandy that Mr. Watchman uttered the single word ' poisoned'? " "Yes." "Did you get the impression that he spoke of the brandy? " "No. I don't know if your sixth sense will tell you I'm lying, but it seemed to me he tried to take the brandy, and perhaps did swallow a little, and that it was when he found he couldn't drink that he said--that one word. He said it between his clenched teeth. I had never seen such a look of terror and despair. Then he jerked his hand.

  Miss Darragh was going to bandage it. Just at that moment the lights went out." "For how long were they out? " "Nobody knows. It's impossible to tell. I can't. It seemed an age. Somebody clicked the switch. I remember that. To see if it had been turned off accidentally, I suppose. It was a nightmare. The rain sounded like drums. There was broken glass everywhere--crunch, crunch, squeak. And his voice. Not like a human voice.

  "Very well,"said Decima breathlessly. "You can have your answer. I meant nothing to him and he meant less to me. Until last Friday he'd never been anything but the vaguest acquaintance."She turned on Fox.

  "Write it down. You'll get no other answer. Write it down." "Thank you, miss,"said Fox civilly. "I don't think I've missed anything. I've got it down." II "Well, have you finished? "demanded Decima, who had succeeded in working herself up into a satisfactory temper. "Is there anything else you want to know? Do you want a list in alphabetical order of my encounters with any other little Luke Watchmans who have come my way?" "No,"said Alleyn. "No. We limit our impertinences to the police code. Our other questions are, I hope, less offensive. They concern the brandy you gave Mr. Watchman, the glass into which you poured it, and the bottle from which it came." "All right. What about them? " "May we have your account of that particular phase of the business? " "I told Gates and I told the coroner. Someone suggested brandy. I looked round and saw Luke's glass on the table, between the settle where he lay and the dartboard.

  There wasn't any brandy left in it. I saw the bottle on the bar. I was very quick about it. I got it and poured some into the glass. I did not put anything but brandy in the glass. I can't prove I didn't, but I didn't." "But perhaps we can prove it. Was anyone near the table? Did anyone watch you pour the brandy? " "Oh, God I "said Decima wearily, "how should I know? Sebastian Parish was nearest to the table. He may have noticed. I don't know. I took the glass to Luke.

  I waited for a moment while Abel Pomeroy put iodine on Luke's finger, and then I managed to pour a little brandy between his lips. It wasn't much. I don't think he even swallowed it, but I suppose you won't believe that." "Miss Moore,"said Alleyn suddenly, "I can't tell you how pathetically anxious we are to accept the things people tell us."He hesitated and then said, "You see, we spend most of our working life asking questions. Can you, for your part, believe that we get a kind of sixth sense and sometimes feel very certain indeed that a witness is speaking the truth, or, as the case may be, is lying? We re not allowed to recognize our sixth sense, and when it points a crow's flight towards the truth we may not follow it. We must cut it dead and follow the dreary back streets of collected evidence. But if they lead us anywhere at all it is almost always to the same spot." "Eminently satisfactory,"said Decima. "Everything for the best in the best of all possible police forces." "That wasn't quite what I meant. Was it after you had given him the brandy that Mr. Watchman uttered the single word ' poisoned '? " "Yes." "Did you get the impression that he spoke of the brandy? " "No. I don't know if your sixth sense will tell you I'm lying, but it seemed to me he tried to take the brandy, and perhaps did swallow a little, and that it was when he found he couldn't drink that he said--that one word. He said it between his clenched teeth. I had never seen such a look of terror and despair. Then he jerked his hand.

  Miss Darragh was going to bandage it. Just at that moment the lights went out." "For how long were they out? " "Nobody knows. It's impossible to tell. I can't. It seemed an age. Somebody clicked the switch. I remember that. To see if it had been turned off accidentally, I suppose. It was a nightmare. The rain sounded like drums. There was broken glass everywhere--crunch, crunch, squeak. And his voice. Not like a human voice.

  Like a cat mewing. And his heels, drumming on the settle. And everybody shouting in the dark." Decima spoke rapidly and twisted her fingers together, "It's funny,"she said, "I either can't talk about it at all, or I can't stop talking about it. Once you start, you go on and on. It's rather queer. I suppose he was in great pain. I suppose it was torture. As bad as the rack, or disembowelling.

  I've got a terror of physical pain. I'd recant anything first." "Not,"said Alleyn, "your political views? " "No,"agreed Decima, "not those. I'd contrive to commit suicide or something. Perhaps it was not pain that made him cry like that and drum with his heels.

  Perhaps it was only reflex something. Nerves." "I think,"said Alleyn, "that your own nerves have had a pretty shrewd jolt." "What do you know about nerves? "demanded Decima with surprising venom. "Nerves I These things are a commonplace to you. Luke Watchman's deaththroes are so much data. You expect me to give you a neat statement about them. Describe in my own words the way he clenched his teeth and drew back his lips." "No,"said Alleyn. "I haven't asked you about those things. I have asked you two questions of major importance. One was about your former relationship with Watchman and the other about the brandy you gave him before he died." "I've answered you. If that's all you want to know you've got it, I can't stand any more of this. Let me----" The voice stopped as if someone had switched it off.

  She looked beyond Alleyn and Fox to the brow of the hillock. Her eyes were dilated.

  Alleyn turned. Norman Cubitt stood against the sky.

  "Norman I "cried Decima.

  He said, "Wait a bit, Decima,"and strode down towards her. He stood and looked at her aJid then lightly picke
d up her hands.

  "What's up? "asked Cubitt.

  "I can't stand it, Norman." Without looking at Alleyn or Fox he said, "You don't have to talk to these two precious experts if it bothers you. Tell'em to go to hell."And then he turned her round and, over her shoulder, grinned, not very pleasantly, at Alleyn.

  "I've made a fool of myself,"whispered Decima.

  She was looking at Cubitt as though she saw him for the first time. He said. "What the devil are you badgering her for? " "Just,"said Alleyn,'"out of sheer wanton brutality." "It's all right,"said Decima. "He didn't badger.

  really. He's only doing his loathsome job." Her eyes were brilliant with tears, her lips not quite closed, and still she looked with a sort of amazement into Cubitt's face.

  "Oh, Norman I "she said, "I've been so inconsistent and fluttery and feminine. Me I " "You I "said Cubitt.

  "In a moment,"thought Alleyn, "he'll kiss her." And he said, "Thank you so much. Miss Moore. I'm extremely sorry to have distressed you. I hope we shan't have to bother you again." "Look here, Alleyn,"said Cubitt, "if you do want to see Miss Moore again I insist on being present, and that's flat." Before Alleyn could answer this remarkable stipulation Decima said, "But, my dear man, I'm afraid you can't insist on that. You're not my husband, you know." "That can be attended to,"said Cubitt. "Will you marry me? " "Fox,"said Alleyn, "what are you staring at?

  Come back to Ottercombe." in "Well, Mr. Alleyn,"said Fox when they were out of earshot, "we see some funny things in our line of business, don't we? What a peculiar moment now, for him to pick on for a proposal. Do you suppose he's been courting her for a fair while, or did he spring it on her sudden? " "Suddenish, I fancy. Fox. Her eyes were wet and that, I suppose, went to his head. I must say she's a very lovely creature. Didn't you think so? " "A very striking young lady,"agreed Fox. "But I thought the super said she was keeping- company with young Pomeroy? " "He did." "She's a bit on the classy side for him, you'd think." "You would. Fox." "Well, now, I wonder what she'll do. Throw him over and take Mr. Cubitt? She looked to me to be rather inclined that way." "I wish she'd told the truth about Watchman," said Alleyn.

  '"Think'there'd been something between them, sir?

  Relations? Intimacy? " "Oh Lord, I rather think so. It's not a very pleasant thought." "Bit of a femme fatale,"said Fox carefully. "But there you are. They laugh at what we used to call respectability, don't they? Modern women----" Alleyn interrupted him.

  "I know. Fox, I know. She is very sane and intellectual and modern, but I don't mind betting there's a strong dram of rustic propriety that pops up when she leasts expects it. I think she's ashamed of the Watchman episode, whatever it was, and furious with herself for being ashamed. What's more, I don't believe she knew until Friday that Legge was an old lag. All guesswork.

  Let's forget it. We'll have an early lunch and call on Dr.

  Shaw. I want to ask him about the wound in the finger.

  Come on." They returned by way of the furze bush, collecting the casts and Alleyn's case. As they disliked making entrances with mysterious bundles, they locked their gear in the car and went round to the front of the Feathers.

  But here they walked into a trap. Sitting beside Abel Fomeroy on the bench outside the front door was an extremely thin and tall man with a long face, a drooping moustache, and foolish eyes. He stared very fixedly at Fox, who recognised him as Mr. George Nark and looked tlie other way.

  ' Find your road all right, gentlemen? "asked Abel.

  ' Yes, thank you, Mr. Pomeroy,"said Alleyn.

  ' It's a tidy stretch, sir. You'll be proper warmed up." ' We're not only warm but dry,"said Alleyn.

  ' Ripe for a pint, I dessay, sir? " ' A glorious thought,"said Alleyn.

  Mr. Nark cleared his throat. Abel threw a glance of the most intense dislike at him and led the way into the private bar.

  "'Morning,"said Mr. Nark, before Fox could get through the door.

  "'Morning, Mr. Nark,"said Fox.

  "Don't know but what I wouldn't fancy a pint myself,"said Mr. Nark firmly, and followed them into the Private.

  Abel drew Alleyn's and Fox's drinks.

  "'Alf-'n-'alf, Abel,"said Mr. Nark grandly.

  Somewhat ostentatiously Abel wiped out a shining pint-pot with a spotless cloth. He then drew the mild and bitter.

  "Thank 'ee,"said Mr. Nark. "Glad to see you're acting careful. Not but what, scientifically speaking, you ought to bile them pots. I don't know what the law has to say on the point,"continued Mr. Nark, staring very hard at Alleyn. "I'd have to look it up. The law may touch on it, and it may not." "Don't tell us you're hazy on the subject,"said Abel bitterly. "Us can't believe it." Mr. Nark smiled in an exasperating manner and took a pull at his beer. He made a rabbit-like noise with his lips, snapping them together several times with a speculative air. He then looked dubiously into his pint-pot.

  "Well,"said Abel tartly, "what's wrong with it?

  You'm not pisoned this time, I suppose? " "I dessay it's all right,"said Mr. Nark. "New barrel bain't it? " Abel disregarded this inquiry. The ship's decanter that they had seen in the cupboard now stood on the bar counter. It was spotlessly clean. Abel took the bottle of Amontillado from a shelf above the bar. He put a strainer in the neck of the decanter and began, carefully, to pour the sherry through it.

  "What jiggery-pokery are you up to now, Abel? " inquired Mr. Nark. "Why, Gor'dang it, that thurr decanter was in the pison cupboard." Abel addressed himself exclusively to Alleyn and Fox.

  He explained the various methods used by Mrs. Ives to clean the decanter. He poured himself out a glass of the sherry and invited them to join him. Under the circumstances they could scarcely refuse. Mr. Nark watched them with extraordinary solicitude and remarked that they were braver men than himself.

  "Axcuse me for a bit if you please, gentlemen,"said Abel elaborately to Alleyn and Fox. "I do mind me of summat I've got to tell Mrs. Ives. If you'd be so good as to ring if I'm wanted." "Certainly, Mr. Pomeroy,"said Alleyn.

  Abel left them with Mr. Nark.

  "Fine morning, sir,"said Mr. Nark.

  Alleyn agreed.

  "Though I suppose,"continued Mr. Nark wooingly, "all weatliers and climates are one to a man of your calling. Science,"continued Mr. Nark, drawing closer and closer to Alleyn, "is a powerful high-handed mistress.

  Now, just as a matter of curiosity, sir, would you call yourself a man of science? " "Not I,"said Alleyn, good-naturedly. "I'm a policeman, Mr. Nark." "Ah I That's my point. See? That's my point.

  Now, sir, with all respect you did ought to make a power more use of the great wonders of science. I'll give in your fingerprints. There's an astonishing thing, now! To think us walks about unconscious-like, leaving our pores and loops all over the shop for science to pick up and have the laugh on us." It "was a peculiarity of Mr. Nark's conversational style that as he drew nearer to his victim he raised his voice. His face was now about twenty inches away from Alleyn's and he roared like an infuriated auctioneer.

  "I'm a reader,"shouted Mr. Nark. "I'm a reader and you might say a student. How many printed words would you say I'd absorbed in my life? At a guess, now? " "Really,"said Alleyn. "I don't think I could possibly----" "Fifty-eight million 1 "bawled Mr. Nark. "Nigh on it. Not reckoning twice overs. I've soaked up four hundred words, some of 'em as much as five syllable, mind you, every night for the last forty years. Started in at the age of fifteen. ' Sink or swim,' I said, ' I'll improve my brain to the tune of four hundred words per day till I passes out or goes blind!' And I done it. I don't suppose you know a piece of work called The Evvylootion of the Spices? " "Yes," "There's a tough masterpiece of a job. Took me a year and more, that did. Yes, I've tackled most branches of science. Now the last two years I've turned my eyes in the direction of crime. Trials of famous criminals, lives of murderers, feats of detection, all the whole biling of 'em. Can't get enough of 'em. I'm like that. Whole hog or nothing. Reckon I've sucked it dry." Mr. Nark emptied his pint-pot and, perhaps as an illustra
tive gesture, sucked his moustache. He looked at Alleyn out of the corners of his eyes.

  "This is a very pretty little case now,"he said. "I don't say there's much in it but it's quite a pretty bit of an affair in its way. You'll be counting on knocking it off m a day or two, I suppose? " "I don't know about that, Mr. Nark." "I was a witness." "At the inquest? I thought----" "Not at the inquest,"interrupted Mr. Nark in a great hurry. "No. Superintendent Nicholas Gawd-Almighty Harper had the running of the inquest. I was a witness to the event. More than that I've made a study of the affair and I've drew my own deductions. I don't suppose they'd interest you. But I've drew 'em." Alleyn reflected that it was extremely unlikely that Mr. Nark's deductions would be either intelligible or interesting, but he made an agreeable noise and invited him to have another drink. Mr. Nark accepted and drew it for himself.

  "Ah,"he said. "I reckon I know as much as anybody about this affair. There's criminal carelessness done on purpose, and there's criminal carelessness done by accident. There's motives here and there's motives there, each of 'em making 'tother look like a fool, and all of 'em making the biggest fool of Nicholas Harper. Yes. Us chaps takes our lives in our hands when we calls in at Feathers for a pint. Abel knows it. Abel be too mortal deathly proud to own up." "Carelessness, you said? How did it come about? " If Mr. Nark's theory of how cyanide got on the dart was ever understood by himself he had no gift for imparting it to others. He became incoherent, and defensively mysterious. He dropped hints and, when pressed to explain them, took fright and dived into obscurities. He uttered generalisations of bewildering stupidity, assumed an air of huffiness, floundered into deep water, and remained there blowing like a grampus.