Death and the Dancing Footman

  “Who told you, please?”

  She waited for a moment, and then, very delicately, shrugged her shoulders.

  “It was Mr. Compline,” she said. “You will think it strange that I permitted the visit, but I have adopted the English custom in such matters. He was agitated and felt that he must warn me.”

  “Warn you?”

  “Of this exhibition on the part of my husband.”

  “Suppose,” said Alleyn, “that I told you I had convincing evidence that your husband was not responsible for this affair. What would you say?”

  For the first time she looked frightened and for a moment she had no answer to give him. Her hands were clenched and her arms rigid. “I am afraid that I should not believe you,” she said. “It is horrible to have to say these things. I find it unbearable. But one must protect oneself, and other innocent persons.”

  Alleyn was beginning to get a sort of enjoyment out of Madame Lisse.

  “I am to understand,” he said, “that it was a very unusual event for Mr. Compline to pay you such an informal visit?”

  “The circumstances were extraordinary.”

  “Were they extraordinary when he again visited you at half-past seven that same evening?”

  “Of course. I had asked him to come. I was most anxious to see him alone. By that time I was convinced that my husband meant to do him an injury. My husband had told me as much.” Perhaps Alleyn looked a little incredulous, for she said quickly: “It is quite true. He said that he had come to the end of his endurance and could not trust himself. I was terrified. I warned Mr. Compline and begged him to be careful. When he left me, I looked after him and I saw that horrible figure fall from the top of his door. His hand was almost on the door. I screamed out and at the same moment it struck his arm. It might have killed him.”

  “No doubt,” said Alleyn, who had already taken possession of the Buddha. “Then you and Mr. Compline were together from the time he left his room and walked down the passage to yours, until he returned and received his injury?”

  “Yes. He has told me he came straight to my room.”

  “You were together,” Alleyn repeated slowly, “the whole time?”

  Again he thought he had frightened her. Again there was an odd little pause before she said: “Yes, certainly. I never left my room until he went.”

  “And did he?”

  “He?” she said readily. “Oh no, he didn’t, of course. I had to send him away in the end.”

  There was something here, Alleyn felt sure, that she had concealed from him, but he decided to leave it for the moment and went on to the time of the murder. Again Madame Lisse had been in her room. “I was in agony. I suffer from the migraine and this was a terrible attack, brought on, no doubt, by nervous suspense. I went to bed before dinner and remained there until I was told of the tragedy.”

  “Who told you of the tragedy, Madame?”

  “Nicholas Compline. He broke it to me after he had told his mother.”

  “And what was your reaction?”

  “I was horrified, of course.” She leant back again in her chair and it seemed to him that she marshalled a series of sentences she had previously rehearsed. “At first I thought it was a mistake, that he had meant to kill Nicholas, but then it dawned upon me that it was William’s threats to expose him that had driven him to do it. I realized that it had nothing to do with me, nothing at all. No other explanation is possible.”

  “You believe that it was impossible that William could be mistaken for Nicholas?”

  “Of course. They were not so alike. Even the backs of their heads. There was a small thin patch in William’s hair, just below the crown of his head.”

  “Yes,” said Alleyn, watching her trembling lips. “There was.”

  “Whereas Nicholas has thick hair, like honey. And the nape of William’s neck—it was—” She caught her breath and her voice seemed to die on her lips.

  “You must have observed him very closely,” said Alleyn.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Document

  ALLEYN’S INTERVIEW WITH Nicholas was an uncomfortable affair. They had not been together for two minutes before he realized that he had to deal with a man who had pretty well reached the end of his tether. Nicholas was bewildered and dazed. He answered Alleyn’s questions abruptly and almost at random. Even when the question of the murderer’s identity was directly broached, Nicholas merely flared up weakly like a damp squib and went out. Alleyn became insistent and Nicholas made a effort to concentrate, saying that Hart must have done it and escaped after Thomas left the hall. When Alleyn asked if he thought it was a case of mistaken identity, he said he did and spoke incoherently of the two earlier attempts. “It was me all along,” he said, “that he was after. I thought, at first, Bill’s fiddling about with the radio had sent him off his head; but Mandrake pointed out that Hart must have come in by the door from the hall and that, leaning over like that, the back of Bill’s head and tunic would look like mine. And he must have heard me tell Bill to go to bed.”

  “When was that?”

  Nicholas passed his hand across his eyes, pressing down with his finger-tips. “Oh, God,” he said, “when was it? I can’t sort of think. It was when Hart turned bloody-minded over the radio. He and Mandrake were in the room they call the ‘boudoir.’ He opened the door and raised hell about the wireless. I slammed the door in his face and Mandrake yelled out that I was to turn off the radio. I got suddenly fed up with the whole show. I said to my brother something like: ‘Oh, all right, the wireless is no go. Get to bed, Bill.’ Mandrake and Hart must have heard. I turned the radio down to a whisper. We didn’t say anything and I suppose he thought Bill did go away. I heard him switch off the light. He must have done it as a blind or something, to make us think he had gone.”

  “Was that long afterwards?”

  “I don’t know. I heard Mandrake go out. It was after that.”

  “Did you and your brother not speak at all?”

  “Yes. When, as I thought, I heard Hart go, I said it was all right now if Bill wanted to use the wireless. He was furious with Hart, you know. We both were, but I saw I’d been making a fool of myself. I was suddenly sick of the whole thing. I tried to calm Bill down. He’d turned pretty grim and wouldn’t talk. I hung about a bit and then I came away.”

  “Can you tell me exactly what he was doing when you left?”

  Nicholas went very white. “He was sitting by the fire. He didn’t look up. He just grunted something, and I went into the library.”

  “Did you shut the door?” Alleyn had to repeat this question. Nicholas was staring blankly at him.

  “I don’t remember,” he said at last. “I suppose so. Yes, I did. They all began asking me about my brother. Whether he was still livid with Hart, that kind of thing. I sort of tried to shut them up because of Bill hearing us, but I think I’d shut the door. I’m sorry, I’m not sure about that. Is it important?”

  “I’d like an exact picture, you know. You are certain, then, that the door was shut?”

  “I think so. Yes, I’m pretty sure it was.”

  “Do you remember exactly at what moment Mr. Royal left the library?”

  “How the devil should I remember?” said Nicholas with a sort of peevish violence. “He can tell you that himself. What is all this?” He stared at Alleyn and then said quickly: “Look here, if you’re thinking Jonathan…I mean it’d be too preposterous. Jonathan! Good God, he’s our greatest friend. God, what are you driving at?”

  “Nothing in the world,” said Alleyn gently. “I only want facts. I’m sorry to have to hammer away at details like this.”

  “Well, all I can tell you is that at some time during the news bulletin Jonathan went into the hall for a minute or two.”

  “The red leather screen in the smoking-room was stretched in front of the door, as it is now?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “Yes. To get back to the wireless. You tell me that you turned it dow
n after the outburst from Dr. Hart. Did you look closely at it?”

  “Why the hell should I look closely at it?” demanded Nicholas, in a fury. “I turned it down. You don’t peer at a wireless when you turn it down.”

  “You turned it down,” Alleyn murmured. “Not off. Down.”

  “You’ve grasped it. Down,” said Nicholas, and burst into hysterical laughter. “I turned it down, and five minutes later somebody turned it up, and a little while after that Hart murdered my brother. You’re getting on marvellously, Inspector.”

  Alleyn waited for a moment. Nicholas had scrambled out of his chair and had turned away, half weeping, half laughing. “I’m sorry,” he stammered, “I can’t help it. He’s in there, murdered, and my mother—my mother. I can’t help it.”

  “I’m sorry, too,” said Alleyn. “All this insistence on detail must seem unbearably futile, but I promise you it has its purpose. You see, this is unhappily a police matter, a matter, if you can stomach the phrase, of serving justice, and in that cause very many things must be sacrificed, including the nerves of the witnesses.”

  “I’m all to pieces,” Nicholas mumbled. “I’m no good. It must be shock or something.” His voice died away in a trail of inaudibilities: “…can’t concentrate…enough to send you mad…” He pulled out his handkerchief and retired to the window, where he blew his nose very violently, caught his breath in a harsh sob, and stared out at the teeming rain, beating his uninjured hand on the sill. Alleyn waited for a little while and presently Nicholas turned and faced him. “All right,” said Nicholas. “Go on.”

  “I’ve nearly done. If you would rather, I can wait…”

  “No, no. For God’s sake, get it over.”

  Alleyn went back to the incidents of the pond and the Buddha and at first learnt nothing new from Nicholas. He had seen Mandrake through the pavilion window and they had waved to each other. He had then turned away and gone on with the dismal business of undressing. He had heard the sound of a splash but had not immediately looked out, thinking that Mandrake might have thrown something into the pond. When he did go out to the rescue he had seen nobody else, but the assailant would have had time to dodge behind the pavilion. He had not noticed any footprints. When Hart came upon the scene, Nicholas had already thrown the serio-comic lift-belt into the pond. As for his escape from the brass Buddha, it had fallen out exactly as Madame Lisse had described it. He had felt the door resist him and then give way suddenly. Almost simultaneously with this, he had started back and immediately afterwards something had fallen on his forearm. “It’s damned sore,” said Nicholas querulously, and didn’t need much persuasion to exhibit his injury, which was sufficiently ugly. Alleyn said it should have a surgical dressing and Nicholas, with considerable emphasis, said he’d see Hart in hell before he let him near it.

  “Madame Lisse watched you as you walked down the passage?”

  It appeared that he had glanced back and seen her in the doorway. He said that but for this distraction he might have noticed the Buddha, but he didn’t think he would have done so. Alleyn asked him the now familiar questions: Had he gone straight to her room on leaving his own and had they been together the whole time?

  “Yes, the whole time,” said Nicholas, and looked extremely uncomfortable. “We were talking. She wanted to see me, to warn me about him. I hope to Heaven you’ll keep her name out of this as much as possible, Alleyn.”

  Alleyn blandly disregarded this.

  “You heard nothing suspicious? No noise in the passage outside?”

  “We did, as a matter of fact. I thought it was somebody at the door. It was every slight sound. We sort of—sensed it. You don’t want to get a wrong idea, you know,” said Nicholas. “I suppose you’ve heard how he’s made life hideous for her. She told me all about it.” For the first time Alleyn saw a wan shadow of Nicholas’ old effrontery. He stroked the back of his head and there was a hint of complacency in the gesture. “I wasn’t going to be dictated to by the fellow,” he said.

  “What did you do?” Alleyn enquired. Nicholas began to stammer again and Alleyn had some little trouble in discovering that he had taken cover behind a screen while the lady looked into the passage.

  “So, in point of fact, you were not together the whole time?”

  “To all intents and purposes, we were. She was away only for about a minute. Of course what we had heard was Hart going past the door with that blasted image in his hands. I suppose when Elise looked out he was in my room. She’ll tell you it was only for a minute.”

  Alleyn did not tell him that in giving her account of their meeting, Madame Lisse had made no mention of this incident.

  Before he let Nicholas go, Alleyn asked him, as he had asked Hart, to give a description of the smoking-room. Nicholas appeared to find this request suspicious and distressing and at first made a poor fist of his recital. “I don’t know what’s in the ghastly place. It’s just an ordinary room. You’ve seen it. Why do you want to ask me for an inventory?” Alleyn persisted, however, and Nicholas gave him a list of objects, rattling it off in a series of jerks: “The wireless. Those filthy knives. There are seven of them and the thing that did it”— he wetted his lips—“hung in the middle. I remember looking at it while we were talking. There were some flowering plants in pots, I think. And there’s a glass-topped case with objets d’art in it. Medals and miniatures and things. And sporting prints and photographs. There’s a glass-fronted cupboard with china and old sporting trophies inside, and a small bookcase with Handley Cross and Stonehenge and those sort of books in it. Leather chairs and an occasional table with cigars and cigarettes. I can’t think of anything else. My God, when I think of that room I see only one thing and I’ll see it to the end of my days!”

  “You’ve given me a very useful piece of information,” Alleyn said. “You told me that when you left your brother, the Maori mere was still in its place on the wall.”

  Nicholas stared dully at him, “I hadn’t thought of it before,” he said. “I suppose it was.”

  “Are you quite certain?”

  Nicholas passed his hand over his eyes “Certain?” he repeated. “I thought I was, but now you ask me again I’m not so sure. It might have been when Bill and I were in the smoking-room in the morning. What were we talking about? Yes. Yes, we were talking about Mandrake in the pond. Yes, it was in the morning. Oh, hell, I’m sorry. I can’t say it was there in the evening. I don’t think I looked at the wall, then. I can’t remember.”

  “There’s only one other thing,” Alleyn said. “I must tell you that Mr. Royal has given me the letter that was found in your mother’s room.”

  “But,” said Nicholas, “that’s horrible! It was for me. There’s nothing in it— Can’t you— Must you pry into everything? There’s nothing in it that can help you.”

  “If that’s how it is,” said Alleyn, ‘it will go no further than the inquest. But I’m sure you will see that I must read it.”

  Nicholas’ lips had bleached to a mauve line. “You won’t understand it,” he said. “You’ll misread it. I shouldn’t have given it to them. I should have burnt it.”

  “You’d have made a really bad mistake if you’d done that.” Alleyn took the letter from his pocket and laid it on the desk.

  “For God’s sake,” Nicholas said, “remember that when she wrote it she was thinking of me and how much I’d miss her. She’s accusing herself of deserting me. For God’s sake remember that.”

  “I’ll remember,” Alleyn said. He put the letter aside with his other papers and said that he need keep Nicholas no longer. Now that he was free, Nicholas seemed less anxious to go. He hung about the library looking miserably at Alleyn out of the corners of his eyes. Alleyn wrote up his notes and wondered what was coming. He became aware that Nicholas was watching him. For some little time he went on sedately with his notes but he at last looked up to find, as he had expected, those rather prominent grey eyes staring at him.

  “What is it, Mr. Compline?” sai
d Alleyn quietly.

  “Oh, nothing. It’s just—there doesn’t seem anywhere to go. It gets on your nerves, wandering about the house. This damned mongrel rain and everything. I—I was going to ask you where he was.”

  “Dr. Hart?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s locked up at the moment, at his own request.”

  “So long as he is locked up. Mandrake and Hersey seem to have gone silly over him. Because he attended my mother! God, she was at his mercy! Hart! The man who ruined her beauty and had just murdered her son. Pretty, wasn’t it! How do I know what he was doing to her?”

  “From what Lady Hersey tells me, his treatment was exactly what the doctor I spoke to prescribed. I’m sure you need not distress yourself by thinking that any other treatment would have made the smallest difference.”

  “Why didn’t Mandrake get here sooner? They wanted the stuff from the chemist urgently, didn’t they? What the hell was he doing? Nearly four hours to go sixty miles! My mother was dying and the best they could do was to send a bloody little highbrow cripple with a false name.”

  “A false name!” Alleyn ejaculated.

  “Yes. Didn’t Jonathan tell you? He told me. He’s as common as dirt, is Mr. Aubrey Mandrake, and his name’s Footling. Jonathan put me up to pulling his leg about it, and he’s had his knife into me ever since.”

  The door opened and Aubrey Mandrake looked in. “Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t know you were still engaged.”

  “We’ve finished, I think,” said Alleyn. “Thank you, so much, Mr. Compline. Come in, Mr. Mandrake.”

  “I only came in,” said Mandrake, “to say Lady Hersey is free now, if you want to see her. She asked me to tell you.”

  “I shall be glad to see her in a minute or so. I just want to get my notes into some sort of order. I suppose you can’t do shorthand, can you?”

  “Good Heavens, no,” said Mandrake languidly. “What an offensive suggestion.”

  “I wish I could. Never mind. I’ve been going through your notes. They’re of the greatest help. You haven’t signed them and I’ll get you to do so, if you don’t mind.”