Overture to Death

  “That’s not quite fair. What do you suppose I thought when—?”

  “Yon obviously don’t trust me. That’s all.”

  “My God—!” began Dr. Templett. The voice cut in coolly:

  “All right. At nine. Why do you suppose he wants us in the hall? Is he going to arrest someone?”

  “I don’t know. What do you think?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The church clock struck nine as the police car drew up outside the hall. Alleyn and Fox got out, followed by Detective-Sergeant Alison and two plain-clothes men. At the same moment, Nigel drove up in his own car with Sergeant Roper. They all went in through the back door. Alleyn switched on the stage lights and the supper-room light.

  “You see the lie of the land, don’t you,” he said. “Two flights of steps from the supper-room to the stage. I’ll have the curtain down, I think, Fox. You can stay on the stage. So can you, Bathgate, in the wings, and with not a word out of you. You know when to go down and what to do.”

  “Yes,” said Nigel nervously.

  “Good. Alison, you’d better move to the front door, and you others can go into the dressing-rooms. They’ll come straight through the supper-room and won’t see you. Roper, you’re to go outside and direct them to the back door. Then come in. But quietly, if you don’t want me to tear your buttons off and half-kill you. The rest of you can stay in the dressing-rooms until the company’s complete. When it is complete, I’ll slam both doors at the top of the steps. You can then come into the supper-room and sit on the steps. The piano’s in position, isn’t it, Fox? And the screens? Yes. All right, down with the curtain.”

  The curtain came down in three noisy rushes, releasing a cloud of dust.

  With the front of the hall shut out, the stage presented a more authentic appearance. Dinah’s box set, patched and contrived though it was, resembled any touring company’s stock scenery, while Mrs. Ross’s chairs and ornaments raised the interior to still greater distinction. The improvised lights shone bravely enough on chintz and china. The stage had taken on a sort of eerie half-life and an air of expectancy. On the round table Alleyn laid the anonymous letter, the “Prelude in C sharp Minor,” the “Venetian Suite,” the pieces of rubber in their box, the onion, the soap-box and the teapot. He then covered this curious collection with a cloth.

  Fox and Alison brought extra chairs from the dressing-rooms and put one of the paraffin lamps on the stage.

  “Eight chairs,” counted Alleyn. “That’s right. Are we ready? I think so.”

  “Nothing else, sir?”

  “Nothing. Remember your cue. Leave on the supper-room lights. Here he comes, I think. Away you go.”

  Fox walked over to the prompt corner. Nigel went through the opposite door and sat out of sight in the shadow of the proscenium. Alison went down to the auditorium, the two plain-clothes men disappeared into the dressing-rooms, and Roper, breathing stertorously, made for the back door.

  “Shock tactics,” muttered Alleyn. “Damn, I hate ’em. So infernally unfair, and they look like pure exhibitionism on the part of the police. Oh, well, can’t be helped.”

  “I don’t hear a car,” whispered Nigel.

  “It’s coming.”

  They all listened. The wind howled and the rain drummed on the shutters.

  “I’ll never think of this place,” said Nigel, “without hearing that noise.”

  “It’s worse than ever,” said Fox.

  “Here he is,” said Alleyn.

  And now they all heard the car draw up in the lane. A door slammed. Boots crunched up the gravel path. Roper’s voice could be heard. The back door opened. Roper, suddenly transformed into a sort of majordomo, said loudly:

  “Mr. Jernigham senior, sir.”

  And the squire walked in.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Miss Prentice Feels the Draught

  “—SO YOU SEE,” said Alleyn, “I was led to wonder if, to speak frankly, the object of her visit was blackmail.”

  The squire’s face was drained of all its normal colour, but now it flushed a painful crimson.

  “I cannot believe it.”

  “In view of the record—”

  The squire made a violent, clumsy gesture with his right hand. Standing in the centre of the stage under those uncompromising lights, be looked at once frightened and defiant. Alleyn watched him for a moment and then he said:

  “You see, I think I know what she had to say to you.”

  Jernigham’s jaw dropped.

  “I don’t believe you,” he said hoarsely.

  “Then let me tell what I believe to be her hold on you.”

  Alleyn’s voice went on and on, quietly, dispassionately. Jernigham listened with his gaze on the floor. Once he looked up as though he would interrupt, but he seemed to think better of this impulse and fell to biting his nails.

  “I give you this opportunity,” said Alleyn. “If you care to tell me now—”

  “There is nothing to tell you. It’s not true.”

  “Mrs. Ross did not come this afternoon with this story. She did not make these very definite terms with you?”

  “I cannot discuss the matter.”

  “Even,” added Alleyn, “in view of this record?”

  “I admit nothing.”

  “Very well. I was afraid you would take this line.”

  “In my position—”

  “It was because of your position I gave you this opportunity. I can do no more.”

  “I can’t see why you want this general interview.”

  “Shock tactics, sir,” said Alleyn.

  “I—I don’t approve.”

  “If you wish, sir, I can hand my report in and you may make a formal complaint at the Yard.”

  “No.”

  “It would make no difference,” said Alleyn. “I think the others have arrived. This is your last word?”

  “I have nothing to say.”

  “Very well, sir.”

  Roper tapped at one of the supper-room doors.

  “Hullo!” shouted Alleyn.

  “Here they be, sir, every living soul, and all come together.”

  “All right, Roper. Show them in.”

  Miss Prentice came in first, followed by Dinah, the rector and Henry. Alleyn asked Miss Prentice to sit in the most comfortable chair, which he had placed on the prompt side of the table. When she dithered, he was so crisply polite that she was there before she realised it. She looked quickly towards the rector, who took the chair on her right. Dinah sat on her father’s right with Henry beside her. The squire looked furtively at Alleyn.

  “Will you sit down, sir?” invited Alleyn.

  “What! Yes, yes,” said the squire convulsively, and sat beside Henry.

  Mrs. Ross came in. She was dressed in black and silver, a strangely exotic figure in those surroundings. She said: “Good-evening,” with her customary side-long smile, bowed rather more pointedly to Alleyn, and sat beside the squire. Templett, seeming ill at ease and shame-faced, followed her.

  Miss Prentice drew in her breath and began to whisper:

  “No, no, no! Never at the same table. I can’t—!”

  Alleyn sat on her left in the one chair remaining vacant and said, “Miss Prentice—please!”

  His voice had sufficient edge to silence Miss Prentice and call the others to a sort of guarded alertness.

  His long hands lay clasped before him on the table. He leant forward and looked with deliberation round the circle of attentive faces.

  He said, “Ladies and gentlemen, I shall not apologise for calling you together to-night. I am sure that most—not all, but most—of you are only too anxious that this affair should be settled, and I may tell you that we have now collected enough evidence to make an arrest. Each of you in turn has provided evidence; each of you has withheld evidence. From the information you have given, and from the significance of your several reticences, has emerged a pattern which, as we read it, has at its centre a singl
e person: the murderer of Miss Idris Campanula.”

  They sat as still as figures in a tableau, and the only sound, when Alleyn paused, was the sound of rain and the uneasy stirring of the wind outside.

  “From the beginning, this strange affair has presented one particularly unusual problem: the problem of the murderer’s intention. Was it Miss Idris Campanula for whom this trap was set, or was it Miss Eleanor Prentice? If it was indeed Idris Campanula, then the number of possible suspects was very small. If it was Miss Prentice, the field was a great deal wider. During most of yesterday and part of to-day my colleague, Inspector Fox, interviewed the people who have known and come into contact with both ladies. He could find no motive for the murder of either of them, outside the circle of people we have found motive. Money, jealousy, love and fear are the themes most usually found behind homicide. All four appeared in this case if Miss Campanula was the intended victim: the last three, if the intended victim was Miss Prentice. The fact that on Friday evening at five o’clock Mr. Henry Jernigham showed the automatic to all of you, except his father, who is the owner, was another circumstance that suggested one of you as the guilty person.”

  Henry rested his head on his hand, driving his fingers through his hair. Templett cleared his throat.

  “At the inquest this morning you all heard the story of the water-pistol. The booby-trap was ready at 2.30 on Friday. The water-pistol was no longer in position at noon on Saturday when Miss Prentice used the soft pedal. Yet some time between Friday at 2.30 and noon on Saturday, somebody sat at the piano and used the soft pedal and the booby-trap worked.”

  Alleyn lifted the cloth from the table. Miss Prentice gave a nervous yelp. He took up the “Venetian Suite” and pointed to the circular blister and discoloured splashes on the back.

  “Five hours after the catastrophe, this was still damp. So was the torn silk round the hole in front of the piano. Miss Prentice has told us that her music was left on the piano earlier in the week. All Saturday morning the hall was occupied. It seems, therefore, that the water-pistol was removed before Saturday morning, and presumably by the guilty person, since an innocent person would not have kept silent about the booby-trap. On Friday afternoon and evening the hall was deserted. At this stage I may say that Mr. Jernigham and Dr. Templett both have alibis for Friday afternoon, when they hunted up till a short time before the rehearsal-for-words at Pen Cuckoo. Dr. Templett has an alibi for Friday and well into Saturday morning, during which time he was occupied with professional duties. It is hardly conceivable that he would enter the hall in the small hours of Saturday morning to play the piano. The helpers arrived soon after nine o’clock on Saturday, and by that time the pistol had been removed.

  “Now for the automatic. If, as we suppose, the water-pistol was discovered on Friday, it is of course possible that the automatic was substituted before Saturday. This possibility we consider unlikely. It was known that the helpers would be in the hall all Saturday morning, and the murderer would have run the risk of discovery. It was only necessary for someone to disarrange the rotten silk in the front of the piano to reveal the nozzle of the Colt. True, this piece of music was on the rack; but it might have been removed. Somebody might have dusted the piano. It is also true that nobody was likely to look in the top, as the person who removed the water-pistol had taken pains to re-fasten the bunting with drawing-pins and to cover the top with heavy pot plants. Still, there would have been considerable risk. It seems more probable that the murderer would leave the setting of the automatic until as late as possible. Say about four o’clock on Saturday afternoon.”

  Templett made a sudden movement, but said nothing.

  “For four o’clock on Saturday afternoon,” said Alleyn, “none of you has an alibi that would stand up to five minutes’ cross-examination.”

  “But—”

  “I’ve told you—”

  “I explained yesterday—”

  “Do you want me to go into this? Wait a little and listen. At about half-past three, Mrs. Ross arrived at the hall. Dr. Templett got there a few minutes later. She had come to complete the supper arrangements, he to put his acting clothes in his dressing-room. They had both called at Pen Cuckoo in the morning. Mrs. Ross tells us that while Dr. Templett went into the house she remained in the car. I imagine there is no need to remind you all of the french window into the study at Pen Cuckoo.”

  “I knew,” whispered Miss Prentice. “I knew, I knew!”

  “You’re going beyond your duty, Mr. Alleyn,” said Mrs. Ross.

  “No,” said Alleyn. “I merely pause here to point out how easy it would have been for any of you to come up Top Lane and slip into the study. To return to the 3.30 visit to the hall. Dr. Templett has given what I believe to be a true account of this visit. He has told us that he arrived to find Mrs. Ross already there and occupied with the supper arrangements. After a time they came here on to this stage. They noticed that the last window on the right, near the front door, was a few inches open. Mrs. Ross, who first noticed this, told Dr. Templett that she saw someone dodge down behind the sill. To reach the window this onlooker used a box.”

  He turned the cloth farther back and the dilapidated soap-box was revealed. Miss Prentice giggled and covered her mouth with her hand.

  “This is the box. It fits into the marks under the window. Do you recognise it, Dr. Templett?”

  “Yes,” said Templett dully, “I remember that splash of white on the top. I saw it as I looked down.”

  “Exactly. I should explain that when Dr. Templett reached the window he looked out to see if he could discover anybody. He saw nobody, but he noticed the box. He tells me it was not there when he arrived. Now Mrs. Ross said that she did not recognise this person. But I have experimented, and have found that if one sees anybody at all under the conditions she has described, one stands a very good chance of recognising them. One would undoubtedly know, for instance, whether it was a man or a woman whose image showed for a moment and disappeared behind the sill. It will be urged by the police that Mrs. Ross did, in fact, recognise this person.” Alleyn turned to Templett.

  “Mrs. Ross did not tell you who it was?”

  “I didn’t know who it was,” said Mrs. Ross.

  “Dr. Templett?”

  “I believe Mrs. Ross’s statement.”

  Alleyn looked at the squire.

  “When you saw Mrs. Ross alone this afternoon, sir, did she refer to this incident?”

  “I can’t answer that question, Alleyn,” muttered the squire. Henry raised his head and looked at his father with a sort of wonder.

  “Very well, sir,” said Alleyn. “I must remind you all that you are free to refuse answers to any questions you may be asked. The police may not set traps, and it is my duty to tell you that we have established the identity of the eavesdropper.” He took the lid from a small box.

  “One of those fragments of rubber,” he said, “was found on the point of a nail on the inside of the box. The others were caught behind projecting splinters also on the inside of the box.”

  He opened an envelope and from it he shook a torn surgical finger-stall.

  “The fragments of rubber,” he said, “correspond with the holes in this stall.”

  Miss Prentice electrified the company by clapping her hands with great violence.

  “Oh, inspector,” she cried shrilly, “how perfectly, perfectly wonderful you are!”

  Alleyn turned slowly and met her enraptured gaze. Her prominent eyes bulged, her mouth was open, and she nodded her head several times with an air of ecstasy.

  “Then you acknowledge,” he said, “that you put this box outside the window on Saturday afternoon?”

  “Of course!”

  “And that you stood on it in order to look through the window?”

  “Alas, yes!”

  “Miss Prentice, why did you do this?”

  “I was guided.”

  “Why did you not admit you recognised the box when Inspector Fox asked
you about it?”

  With that unlovely air of girlishness she covered her face with her fingers.

  “I was afraid he would ask me what I saw.”

  “This is absolute nonsense!” said Templett angrily.

  “And why,” continued Alleyn, “did you tell me you were indoors all Saturday afternoon?”

  “I was afraid to say what I’d done.”

  “Afraid? Of whom?”

  She seemed to draw herself inwards to a point of venomous concentration. She stretched out her arm across the table. The finger pointed at Mrs. Ross.

  “Of her. She tried to murder me. She’s a murderess; I can prove it. I can prove it.”

  “No!” cried the squire. “No! Good God, Alleyn!”

  “Is there any doubt in your mind, Mr. Alleyn,” said Mrs. Ross, “that this woman is mad?”

  “I can prove it,” repeated Miss Prentice.

  “How? ” asked Alleyn. “Please let this finish, Mr. Jernigham. We shall see daylight soon.”

  “She knew I saw her. She tried to kill me because she was afraid.”

  “You hear that, Mrs. Ross? It is a serious accusation. Do you feel inclined to answer it? I must warn you, first, that Dr. Templett has made a statement about this incident.”

  She looked quickly at Templett.

  He said, “I thought you hadn’t considered me over the other business. I told the truth.”

  “You fool,” said Mrs. Ross. For the first time she looked really frightened. She raised her hands to her thin neck and touched it surreptitiously. Then she hid her hands in her lap.

  “I do not particularly want to repeat the gist of Dr. Templett’s statement,” said Alleyn.

  “Very well.” Her voice cracked, she took a breath and then said evenly, “Very well. I recognised Miss Prentice. I’ve nothing whatever to fear. One doesn’t kill old maids for eavesdropping.”

  “Mr. Jernigham,” said Alleyn, “did Mrs. Ross tell you of this incident this afternoon?”

  The squire was staring at Mrs. Ross as if she was a sort of Medusa. Without turning his eyes, he nodded.

  “She suggested that Miss Prentice had come down to the hall with the intention of putting the automatic in the piano?”