Final Curtain

  ‘What sharp eyes!’ cried Cedric. ‘Dearest Mrs Alleyn! Such a help she must be to you.’

  ‘You did, in fact—’

  ‘The Old Person,’ Cedric interrupted, ‘had been particularly rococo. I couldn’t resist. The cat, too. It was a kind of practical pun. The cat’s whiskers!’

  ‘And had you anything to do with the squeaking cushion in his chair?’

  ‘Wasn’t it too robust and Rabelaisian? Sonia bought it and I—I can’t deny it—I placed it there. But why not? If I might make a tiny squeak of protest, dear Mr Alleyn, has all this got anything to do with the business in hand?’

  ‘I think it might well have been designed to influence Sir Henry’s Will, and with both his Wills we are, as I think you’ll agree, very definitely concerned.’

  ‘This is too subtle for my poor wits, I’m afraid.’

  ‘It was common knowledge, wasn’t it, that his youngest granddaughter was, at this time, his principal heir?’

  ‘But one never knew. We bounced in and out of favour from day to day.’

  ‘If this is true, wouldn’t these tricks, if attributed to her, very much affect her position?’ Alleyn waited but was given no answer. ‘Why, in fact, did you allow him to believe she was the culprit?’

  ‘That devilish child,’ Cedric said, ‘gets away with innumerable hideous offences. A sense of injured innocence must have been quite a change for her.’

  ‘You see,’ Alleyn went on steadily, ‘the flying cow was the last trick of five, and, as far as we know, was the final reason for Sir Henry’s changing his Will that night. It was fairly conclusively proved to him that Panty did not do it, and it’s possible that Sir Henry, not knowing which of his family to suspect, took his revenge on all.’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘Now whoever was a party to these tricks—’

  ‘At least you’ll admit that I wouldn’t be very likely to try and cut myself out of the Will—’

  ‘I think that result was unforeseen. You hoped, perhaps, to return to your former position with Panty out of the picture. To something, in fact, on the lines of the Will read at the dinner party, but rather better. You have told me that you and Miss Orrincourt were partners in one of these practical jokes. Indeed you’ve suggested to me that you at least had knowledge of them all.’

  Cedric began to speak very rapidly. ‘I resent all this talk of partnership. I resent the implication and deny it. You force me into an intolerable position with your hints and mysteries. I suppose there’s nothing left but for me to admit I knew what she was doing and why she did it. It amused me and it enlivened the ghastly boredom of these wretched festivities. Panty I consider an abomination, and I don’t in the least regret that she was suspected or that she was cut out of the Will. She probably wallowed in her borrowed glory. There!’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Alleyn. ‘That clears up quite a lot of the fog. And now, Sir Cedric, are you quite sure you don’t know who wrote the letters?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘And are you equally sure you didn’t put the book on embalming in the cheese-dish?’

  Cedric gaped at him. ‘I?’ he said. ‘Why should I? Oh, no! I don’t want Sonia to turn out to be a murderess. Or I didn’t, then. I’d rather thought…I…I…we’d…it doesn’t matter. But I must say I’d like to know.’

  Looking at him, Alleyn was visited by a notion so extravagant that he found himself incapable of pressing Cedric any further on the subject of his relationship with Miss Orrincourt.

  He was, in any case, prevented from doing so by the entrance of Pauline Kentish.

  Pauline entered weeping: not loudly, but with the suggestion of welling tears held bravely back. She seemed to Alleyn to be an older and woollier version of her sister, Desdemona. She took the uncomfortable line of expressing thankfulness that Alleyn was his wife’s husband. ‘Like having a friend to help us.’ Italicized words and even phrases surged about in her conversation. There was much talk of Panty. Alleyn had been so kind, the child had taken a tremendous fancy to him. ‘And I always think,’ Pauline said, gazing at him, ‘that they KNOW.’ From here they were soon involved in Panty’s misdoings. Pauline, if he had now wanted them, supplied good enough alibis for the practical jokes. ‘How could she when the poor child was being watched; closely, anxiously watched? Dr Withers had given explicit orders.’

  ‘And much good they’ve done, by the way!’ Cedric interrupted. ‘Look at Panty!’

  ‘Dr Withers is extremely clever, Cedric. It’s not his fault if Juniper’s drugs have deteriorated. Your grandfather’s medicines were always a great help to him.’

  ‘Including rat-bane?’

  ‘That,’ said Pauline in her deepest voice, ‘was not prescribed, Cedric, by Dr Withers.’

  Cedric giggled.

  Pauline ignored him and turned appealingly to Alleyn. ‘Mr Alleyn, what are we to think? Isn’t it all too tragically dreadful? The suspense! The haunting suspicion! The feeling that here in our midst…! What are we to do?’

  Alleyn asked her about the events following Sir Henry’s exit from the little theatre on the night of his death. It appeared that Pauline herself had led the way to the drawing-room, leaving Troy, Paul and Fenella behind. Miss Orrincourt had only remained a very short time in the drawing-room where, Alleyn gathered, a lively discussion had taken place as to the authorship of the flying cow. To this family wrangle the three guests had listened uncomfortably until Barker arrived, with Sir Henry’s summons for Mr Rattisbon. The squire and the rector seized upon this opportunity to make their escape. Paul and Fenella came in on their way to bed. Troy had already gone upstairs. After a little more desultory haggling the Birthday party broke up.

  Pauline, Millamant and Desdemona had forgathered in Pauline’s room, Bernhardt, and had talked exhaustively. They went together to the bathrooms at the end of the passage and encountered Mr Rattisbon, who had evidently come out of Sir Henry’s rooms. Alleyn, who knew him, guessed that Mr Rattisbon, skipped, with late Victorian coyness, past the three ladies in their dressing-gowns and hurriedly down the passage to his own wing. The ladies performed their nightly rites together and together returned to their adjacent rooms. At this juncture Pauline began to look martyred.

  ‘Originally,’ she said, ‘Bernhardt and Bancroft were one large room, a nursery, I think. The wall between is the merest partition. Milly and Dessy shared Bancroft. Of course, I know there was a great deal to be talked about and for a time I joined in. Milly’s bed was just through the wall from mine, and Dessy’s quite close. But it had been a long day and one was exhausted. They went on and on. I became quite frantic with sleeplessness. Really it was thoughtless.’

  ‘Dearest Aunt Pauline, why didn’t you beat on the wall and scream at them?’ Cedric asked, with some show of interest.

  ‘I wasn’t going to do that,’ Pauline rejoined with grandeur and immediately contradicted herself. ‘As a matter of fact I did at last tap. I said wasn’t it getting rather late. Dessy asked what time it was, and Milly said it couldn’t be more than one. There was quite an argument, and at last Dessy said: “Well, if you’re so certain, Pauline, look at your watch and see.” And in the end I did, and it was five minutes to three. So at last they stopped and then it was only to snore. Your mother snores, Cedric.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘And to think that only a little way away, while Dessy and Milly gossiped and snored, a frightful tragedy was being enacted. To think that if only I had obeyed my instinct to go to Papa and tell him—’

  ‘To tell him what, Aunt Pauline?’

  Pauline shook her head slowly from side to side and boggled a little. ‘Everything was so sad and dreadful. One seemed to see him rushing to his doom.’

  ‘One also saw Paul and Panty rushing to theirs, didn’t one?’ Cedric put in. ‘You could have pleaded with him for them perhaps?’

  ‘I cannot expect, Cedric, that you would understand or sympathize with disinterested impulses.’

  ?
??No,’ Cedric agreed with perfect candour. ‘I don’t think they exist.’

  ‘T’uh!’

  ‘And if Mr Alleyn has no further absorbing questions to ask me I think I should like to leave the library. I find the atmosphere of unread silent friends in half-morocco exceedingly gloomy. Mr Alleyn?’

  ‘No, thank you, Sir Cedric,’ Alleyn said cheerfully. ‘No more questions. If I may go ahead with my job?’

  ‘Oh, do. Please consider this house your own. Perhaps you would like to buy it. In any case I do hope you’ll stay to dinner. And your own particular silent friend. What is his name?’

  ‘Thank you so much, but Fox and I,’ Alleyn said, ‘are dining out.’

  ‘Then in that case,’ Cedric murmured, sidling towards the door, ‘I shall leave Aunt Pauline to divert you with tales of Panty’s innocence in the matter of cheese-dishes, and her own incapability of writing anonymous letters.’

  He was prevented from getting to the door by Pauline. With a movement of whose swiftness Alleyn would have thought her incapable, she got there first, and there she stood in a splendid attitude, the palms of her hands against the door, her head thrown back. ‘Wait!’ she said breathlessly. ‘Wait!’

  Cedric turned with a smile to Alleyn. ‘As I hinted,’ he said, ‘Lady Macduff. With all her pretty chickens concentrated in the persons of Panty and Paul. The hen (or isn’t it oddly enough “dam”?) at bay.’

  ‘Mr Alleyn,’ said Pauline, ‘I was going to say nothing of this to anybody. We are an ancient family—’

  ‘On my knees,’ said Cedric, ‘on my knees, Aunt Pauline, not the Sieur d’Ancred.’

  ‘—and perhaps wrongly, we take some pride in our antiquity. Until today no breath of dishonour has ever smirched our name. Cedric is now Head of the Family. For that reason and for the sake of my father’s memory I would have spared him. But now, when he does nothing but hurt and insult me and try to throw suspicion on my child, now when I have no one to protect me—’ Pauline stopped as if for some important peroration. But something happened to her. Her face crinkled and reminded Alleyn instantly of her daughter’s. Tears gathered in her eyes. ‘I have reason to believe,’ she began and stopped short, looking terrified. ‘I don’t care,’ she said, and her voice cracked piteously. ‘I never could bear people to be unkind to me.’ She nodded her head at Cedric. ‘Ask him,’ she said, ‘what he was doing in Sonia Orrincourt’s rooms that night. Ask him.’

  She burst into tears and stumbled out of the room.

  ‘Oh, bloody hell!’ Cedric ejaculated shrilly and darted after her.

  Alleyn, left alone, whistled disconsolately, and after wandering about the cold and darkening room went to the windows and there made a series of notes in his pocket-book. He was still at this employment when Fox came in.

  ‘They said I’d find you here,’ Fox said. ‘Have you done any good, Mr Alleyn?’

  ‘If stirring up a hive and finding foul-brood can be called good. What about you?’

  ‘I’ve got the medicine bottle and three of the envelopes. I’ve had a cup of tea in Mr Barker’s room.’

  ‘That’s more than I’ve had in the library.’

  ‘The cook and the maids came in and we had quite a nice little chat. Elderly party, it was. Mary, Isabel and Muriel, the maids are. The cook’s Mrs Bullivant.’

  ‘And what did you and Mary, Isabel and Muriel talk about?’

  ‘We passed the time of day and listened to the wireless. Mrs Bullivant showed me photographs of her nephews in the fighting forces.’

  ‘Come on, Fox,’ said Alleyn, grinning.

  ‘By gradual degrees,’ said Fox, enjoying himself, ‘we got round to the late baronet. He must have been a card, the late old gentleman.’

  ‘I believe you.’

  ‘Yes. The maids wouldn’t say much while Mr Barker was there, but he went out after a bit and then it was, as you might say, plain sailing.’

  ‘You and your methods!’

  ‘Well, we were quite cosy. Naturally, they were dead against Miss Orrincourt, except Isabel, and she said you couldn’t blame the old gentleman for wanting a change from his family. It came as a bit of a surprise from Isabel, who’s the oldest of the maids, I should say. She’s the one who looks after Miss Orrincourt’s rooms, and it seems Miss Orrincourt got quite friendly with her. Indiscreet, really, but you know the type.’

  ‘It’s evident, at least, that you do.’

  ‘They seemed to be as thick as thieves, Miss O. and Isabel, and yet, you know, Isabel didn’t mind repeating most of it. The garrulous sort, she is, and Mrs Bullivant egging her on.’

  ‘Did you get anywhere with the history of the milk?’

  ‘Isabel took it out of a jug in the refrigerator and left it in Miss Orrincourt’s room. The rest of the milk in the jug was used for general purposes next day. Miss O. was in her room and undressing when Isabel brought it. It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes or so later that Miss O. took it to the old gentleman. It was heated by Isabel in the kitchen and some patent food put in. The old gentleman fancied Miss O. did it, and said nobody else could make it to suit him. It was quite a joke between Isabel and Miss O.’

  ‘So there’s no chance of anybody having got at it?’

  ‘Only if they doped the tin of patent food, and I’ve got that.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘And I don’t know if you’re thinking she might have tampered with the medicine, sir, but it doesn’t seem likely. The old gentleman never let anybody touch the bottle on account of Miss Desdemona Ancred having once given him embrocation in error. It was a new bottle, Isabel says, I’ve got it from the dump. Cork gone, but there’s enough left for analysis.’

  ‘Another job for Dr Curtis. What about the Thermos?’

  ‘Nicely washed and sterilized and put away. I’ve taken it, but there’s not a chance.’

  ‘And the same goes, I imagine, for the pails and cloths?’

  ‘The pails are no good, but I found some tag-ends of rag.’

  ‘Where have you put these delicious exhibits?’

  ‘Isabel,’ said Fox primly, ‘hunted out a case. I told her I had to buy pyjamas in the village, being obliged unexpectedly to stay the night, and I mentioned that a man doesn’t like to be seen carrying parcels. I’ve promised to return it.’

  ‘Didn’t they spot you were taking these things?’

  ‘Only the patent food. I let on that the police were a bit suspicious about the makers and it might have disagreed. I dare say they didn’t believe me. Owing to the behaviour of the family I think they know what’s up.’

  ‘They’d be pretty dumb if they didn’t.’

  ‘Two other points came out that might be useful,’ said Fox.

  Alleyn had a clear picture of the tea-party. Fox, no doubt, had sipped and complimented, had joked and sympathized, had scarcely asked a question, yet had continually received answers. He was a past master at the game. He indulged his hostesses with a few innocuous hints and was rewarded with a spate of gossip.

  ‘It seems, Mr Alleyn, that the young lady was, as Isabel put it, leading Sir Henry on and no more.’

  ‘D’you mean—’

  ‘Relationship,’ said Fox sedately, ‘according to Isabel, had not taken place. It was matrimony or nothing.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Isabel reckons that before this business with the letters came out, there was quite an understanding between Miss O. and Sir Cedric.’

  ‘What sort of understanding, in the name of decency?’

  ‘Well, sir, from hints Miss O. dropped, Isabel works it out that after a discreet time had elapsed Miss O. would have turned into Lady A. after all. So that what she lost on the swings she would, in a manner of speaking, have picked up on the roundabouts.’

  ‘Good Lord!’ said Alleyn. ‘ “What a piece of work is man!” That, if it’s true, would explain quite a number of the young and unlovely baronet’s antics.’

  ‘Supposing Miss Orrincourt did monkey with the Thermos,
Mr Alleyn, we might have to consider whether Sir Cedric knew what she was up to.’

  ‘We might indeed.’

  ‘I know it’s silly,’ Fox went on, rubbing his nose, ‘but when a case gets to this stage I always seem to get round to asking myself whether such-and-such a character is a likely type for homicide. I know it’s silly, because there isn’t a type, but I ask myself the question just the same.’

  ‘And at the moment you ask it about Sonia Orrincourt?’

  ‘That’s right, sir.’

  ‘I don’t see why you shouldn’t. It’s quite true, that beyond the quality of conceit, nobody’s found a nice handy trait common to all murderers. But I’m not so sure that you should sniff at yourself for saying: “That man or woman seems to me to have characteristics that are inconceivable in a murderer!” They needn’t be admirable characteristics either.’

  ‘D’you remember what Mr Barker said about the rats in Miss Orrincourt’s rooms?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘He mentioned that Miss Orrincourt was quite put-about by the idea of using poison, and refused to have it at any price. Now, sir, would a young woman who was at least, as you might say, toying with the idea of poison, behave like that? Would she? She wouldn’t do it by accident. She might do it to suggest she had a dread of poison, though that’d be a very far-fetched kind of notion too. And would she have owned up as readily to those practical jokes? Mind, you caught her nicely, but she gave me the impression she was upset more on account of being found out for these pranks themselves than because she thought they’d lead us to suspect something else.’

  ‘She was more worried about the Will than anything else,’ Alleyn said. ‘She and Master Cedric planned those damned stunts with the object of setting the old man against Panty. I fancy she was responsible for the portrait vandalism, Cedric having possibly told her to confine her daubs to dry canvas. We know she bought the Raspberry, and he admits he placed it. I think she started the ball rolling by painting the banister. They plotted the whole thing together. He practically admitted as much. Now, all that worries her may be merely an idea that the publication of these goings-on could upset the Will.’