by Ngaio Marsh
The door from the public taproom into the passage was opened and shut. Sebastian Parish and Fox came into the parlour.
The evening was warm and Parish was clad in shorts and a thin blue shirt. He wore these garments with such an air that the makers might Well have implored him to wear their shorts and shirts, free of cost, in and out of season for the rest of his life. His legs were olive brown and slightly glossy, the hair on his olive brown chest was golden brown. He looked burnished and groomed to the last inch. The hair on his head, a darker golden brown, was ruffled, for all the world as if his dresser had darted after him into the wings, and run a practised hand through his locks. There was something almost embarrassing in so generous a display of masculine beauty. He combined in his appearance all the most admired aspects of a pukka sahib, a Greek god, and a wholesome young Englishman. Fox came after him like an anti-climax in good serviceable worsted.
"Ah, good-evening, Inspector,"said Parish.
"Good-evening,"said Alleyn. "I'm sorry to worry you." Parish's glance said, a little too plainly ; "Hallo, so you're a gentleman."He came forward and, with an air of manly frankness, extended his hand.
"I'm very glad to do anything I can,"he said.
He sat on the arm of a chair and looked earnestly from Alleyn to Fox.
"We hoped for this,"he said. "I wish to God they'd called you in at once." "The local men,"Alleyn murmured, "have done very well." "Oh, they've done what they could, poor old souls," said Parish. "No doubt they're very sound at bottom, but it's rather a long way before one strikes bottom.
Considering my cousin's position I think it was obvious that the Yard should be consulted." He looked directly at Allcyn and said : "But I know you! " "Do you? "said Alleyn politely. "I don't think----" "I know you I "Parish repeated dramatically. "Wait a moment. By George, yes, of course. You're the---- I've seen your picture in a book on famous trials."He turned to Fox with the air of a Prince Regent.
"What is his name? "demanded Parish.
"This is Mr. Alleyn, sir,"said Fox, with the trace of a grin at his superior.
"Alleyn 1 My God, yes, of course 1 Alleyn I " "Fox,"said Alleyn austerely, "be good enough to shut the door."He waited until this was done and then addressed himself to the task of removing the frills from the situation.
"Mr. Parish,"Alleyn said, "we have been sent down here to make inquiries about the death of your cousin.
The local superintendent has given us a very full and explicit account of the circumstances surrounding his death but we are obliged to go over the details for ourselves."
Parish made an expressive gesture, showing them the palms of his hands. "But, of course,"he said.
"Yes. Well, we thought that before we went any further we should ask to see you." "Just a moment,"interrupted Parish. "There's one thing I must know. Mr. Alleyn, was my cousin murdered? " Alleyn looked at his hands which were joined together on the table. After a moment's thought he raised his eyes.
"It is impossible to give you a direct answer,"he said, "but as far as we have gone we can find no signs of accident." "That's terrible,"said Parish, and for the first time his voice sounded sincere.
"Of course something that will point to accident may yet come out." "Good God, I hope so." "Yes. You will understand that we want to get a very clear picture of the events leading up to the moment of the accident." "Have you spoken to old Pomeroy? " "Yes." "I suppose he's talked about this fellow Legge? " Alleyn disregarded the implication and said : "About the position of everybody when Mr. Legge threw the darts. Can you remember——" "I've thrashed the thing out a hundred times a day.
I don't remember particularly clearly." "Well,"said Alleyn, "let's see how we get on." Parish's account followed the Pomeroys' pretty closely, but he had obviously compared notes with all the others.
"To tell you the truth,"he said, "I'd had a pint of beer and two pretty stiff brandies. I don't say I've got any very clear recollection of the scene. I haven't. It seems more like a sort of nightmare than anything else." "Can you remember where you stood immediately before Mr. Legge threw the darts? " Alleyn saw the quick involuntary movement of those fine hands and he thought there was rather too long a pause before Parish answered.
"I'm not very certain, I'm afraid." "Were you, for instance, near the table that stands between the dart-board and the settle? " "I may have been. I was watching Legge." "Try to remember. Haven't you a clear picture of Legge as he stood there ready to throw the darts? " Parish had a very expressive face. Alleyn read in it the reflection of a memory. He went on quickly.
"Of course you have. As you say, you were watching him. Only in the medley of confused recoUections that picture was, for a time, lost. But, as you say, you were watching him. Did he face you? " "He--yes." Alleyn slid a paper across the table.
"Here, you see, is a sketch plan of the private bar." Parish looked at it over his shoulder. "Now there's the dart-board, fairly close to the bar counter. Legge must have stood there. There isn't room for more than one person to stand in the corner by the bar counter, and Will Pomeroy was there. So to face Legge you must have been by the table." "All right,"said Parish restively. "I don't say I wasn't, you know. I only say I'm a bit hazy." "Yes, of course, we understand that perfectly.
But what I'm getting at is this. Did you see Legge take the darts after the trial throw? " "Yes. My cousin pulled them out of the board and gave them to Legge. I remember that." "Splendid,"said Alleyn. "It's an important point and we're anxious to clear it up. Thank you. Now standing like that as we've agreed you were standing, you would see the whole room. Can you remember the positions of the other onlookers? " "I remember that they were grouped behind Legge.
Except Abel who was behind the bar-counter. Oh, and Will. Will was in the corner as you've said. Yes." "So that it would have been impossible, if any of the others came to the table, for their movement to escape your notice? " "I suppose so. Yes, of course it would. But I can't see why it matters." "Don't you remember,"said Alleyn gently, "that Mr. Watchman's glass was on that table? The glass that was used afterwards when Miss Moore gave him the brandy? " in Parish was not a rubicund man but the swift ebbing of what colour he had was sufficiently startling. Alleyn saw the pupils of his eyes dilate ; his face was suddenly rather pinched.
"It was the dart that was poisoned,"said Parish.
"They found that out. It was the dart." ' Yes. I take it nobody went to the table? ". I don't think anybody—Yes, I suppose that's right." ' And after the accident? " ' How d'you mean? " ' What were your positions? " ' Luke—my cousin—collapsed on the settle. I moved up to him. I mean I stooped down to look at him. I remember I said—oh, it doesn't matter." "We should like to hear, if we may." "I told him to pull himself together. You see I didn't think anything of it. He's always gone peculiar at the sight of his own blood. When we were kids he used to faint if he scratched himself." "Did anybody but yourself know of this peculiarity? " "I don't know. I should think Norman knew. Norman Cubitt. He may not have known but I rather think we've talked about it quite recently. I seem to remember we did." "Mr. Parish,"said Alleyn, "will you focus your memory on those few minutes after your cousin collapsed on the settle. Will you tell us everything you can remember? " Parish' got to his feet and moved restlessly about the room. Alleyn had dealt with people of the theatre before.
He had leamt that their movements were habitually a little larger than life, and he knew that in many cases this staginess was the result of training and instinct and that it was a mistake to put it down to deliberate artifice. He knew that, in forming an opinion of the emotional integrity of actors, it was almost impossible to decide whether their outward-seeming was conscious or instinctive; whether it expressed their sensibility or merely their sense of theatre. Parish moved restlessly as though some dramatist had instructed him to do so. But be may not, thought Alleyn, know at this moment how beautifully he moves.
"I begin to see it,"said Parish suddenly. "Really it's rather as if I tried to recall a dream, and a
very bad dream, at that. You see the lights kept fading and wobbling, and then one had drunk rather a lot, and then afterwards all that happened makes it even more confused. I'm trying to think about it as a scene on the stage, a scene of which I've had to memorise the positions." "That's a very good idea,"said Alleyn.
The door opened and a tall man with an untidy head looked in.
"I beg your pardon. Sorry 1 "murmured this man.
"Mr. Cubitt? "asked Alleyn. Parish had turned quickly. "Do come in, please." Cubitt came in and put down a small canvas with its face to the wall. Parish introduced him.
"I'd be glad if you'd stay,"said Alleyn. "Mr. Parish is going to try and recall for us the scene that followed the injury to Mr. Watchman's hand." "Oh,"said Cubitt and gave a lopsided grin. "All right. Go ahead, Seb. Sorry I cut in.' He sat on a low chair near the fireplace and wound one thin leg mysteriously round the other. "Go ahead,"he repeated.
Parish, at first, seemed a little disconcerted, but he soon became fortified by his own words.
"Luke,"he said, "is lying on the settle. The settle against the left-hand wall.' "Actors' left or audience's left? "asked Cubitt.
"Audience's left. I'm deliberately seeing it as a stage setting, Norman." "So I understand." "--and Inspector Alleyn knows the room. At first nobody touches Luke. His face is very white and he looks as if he'll faint. I'm standing near his head. Legge's still out in front of the dart-board. He's saying something about being sorry. I've got it now. It's strange, but thinking of it like this brings it back to me. You, Norman, and Decima, are by the bar. She's sitting on the bar in the far corner. Will has taken a step out into the room and Abel's leaning over the bar. Wait a moment. Miss Darragh is farther away near the ingle-nook, and is sitting down. Old George Nark, blind tight, is teetering about near Miss Darragh. That's the picture." "Go on, please,"said Alleyn.
"Well. the lights waver. Sometimes it's almost dark, and then the figures all show up again. Or----"Parish looked at Cubitt.
"No,"said Cubitt. "That wasn't the brandy, Seb.
You're quite right." "WelT, I can't go any further,"said Parish petulantly.
"The rest's still a filthy nightmare. Can you sort it out? " "Please do, if you can, Mr. Cubitt,"said Alleyn.
Cubitt was filling his pipe. His fingers, blunt-ended, were stained as usual with oil paint.
"It's as everybody described it at the inquest,"he said. "I think Seb and I both had the same idea, that Watchman was simply upset at the sight of his own blood. It's true about the lights. The room seemed to-- to sort of pulse with shadows. I remember Luke's right hand. It groped about his chest as if he felt for a handkerchief or something. Legge said something like 'My God I I'm sorry. Is it bad? ' Something like that. And then Legge said something more. ' Look at his face I My God, it's not lockjaw, is it? ' And you, Seb, said, ' Not it,' and trotted out the old story about Luke's sensibilities."
"How was I to know? You make it sound----" "Of course you weren't to know. I agreed with you, but Legge was very upset and, at the mention of lockjaw, Abel went to the cupboard and got out the iodine and a bandage. Miss Darragh came to life and took the bandage from Abel. Abel dabbed iodine on the finger and Luke sort of shuddered like you do with the sting of the stuff.
Miss Darragh said something about brandy. Decima Moore took the bottle off the bar and poured some into Luke's glass. His glass was on the table." "The table by the dart board close to Mr. Parish? " Cubitt looked up from his pipe.
"That's it,"he said. "Decima gave Luke the brandy.
He seemed to get worse just about then. He had a sort of convulsion."Cubitt paused. "It was beastly,"he said and his voice changed. "The glass went flying. Miss Darragh pressed forward with the bandage and then— then the lights went out." "That's very clear,"said Alleyn. "I take it that, from the time Abel Pomeroy got the iodine and bandage until Mr. Watchman died, you were all gathered round the settle? " "Yes. We didn't really change positions much, not Legge, or Will, or Seb here, or me. Abel and the two women came forward." "And when the lights went up again,"said Alleyn, "were the positions the same? " "Pretty much. But——" "Yes? " Cubitt looked steadily at Alleyn. His pipe was gripped between his teeth. He felt in his pockets.
"There was a devil of a lot of movement while the lights were out,"said Cubitt.
CHAPTER ELEVEN ROUTINE
"what sort of movement? "asked Alleyn.
"I know what you mean,"said Parish, before Cubitt could answer. "It was Luke. He must have had a sort of attack after the lights went out. It was appalling." "I don't mean that,"said Cubitt. "I know Luke made a noise. His feet beat a sort of tattoo on the settle.
He flung his arms about and--he made other noises." "For God's sake,"Parish burst out, "don't talk about it like that I I don't know how you can sit there and discuss it." "It looks as if we've got to,"said Cubitt.
"I'm afraid it does,"agreed Alleyn. "What other movements did you notice, beyond those made by Mr.
Watchman? " "Somebody was crawling about the floor,"Cubitt said.
Parish made a gesture of impatience. "My dear old Norman,"he said, "' Crawling about the floor I' You're giving Mr. Alleyn a wrong impression. Completely wrong!
I've no doubt one of us may have stooped down in the dark, knelt down perhaps, to try and get hold of Luke." "I don't mean that at all,"said Cubitt calmly. "Someone was literally crawling about the floor. Whoever it was banged his head against my knees." "Where were you standing? "asked Alleyn.
"By the foot of the settle. I had my back to the settle. The backs of my knees touched it." "How do you know it was a head? "demanded Parish. "It might have been a foot." "I can distinguish between a foot and a head,"said Cubitt, "even in the dark." "Somebody feeling round for the brandy glass,"said Parish.
"It was after the brandy glass was broken."Cubitt looked at Alleyn. "Somebody trod on the glass soon after the lights went out. There's probably nothing in it, anyway. I've no idea at all whose head it was." "Was it Legge's liead? "demanded Parish suddenly.
"I tell you, Seb,"said Cubitt quite mildly, "I don't know whose head it was. I merely know it was there. It simply butted against my knees and drew away quickly." "Well, of course 1 "said Parish. "It was Abel." "Why Abel? " Parish turned to Alleyn.
"Abel dropped the bottle of iodine just before the lights went out. I remember that. He must have stooped down to try and find it." "If it was Abel he didn't succeed,"said Alleyn. "The bottle was found under the settle, you know." "Well, it was dark." "So it was,"agreed Alleyn. "Why did you think it might be Mr. Legge's head?
Parish at once became very solemn. He moved to the hearthrug. He thrust his hands into the pockets of his shorts, pulled in his belly, and stuck out his jaw.
"God knows,"he began. "I don't want to condemn any man, but Norman and I have talked this thing over." "Come off it, Seb,"said Cubitt. "We haven't a blessed thing against the fellow, you know. Nothing that would be of any interest to Mr. Alleyn. I'm very well aware that my own ideas are largely self-protective. I suppose you know, Mr. Alleyn, that Watchman left me some of his money." "Yes,"said Alleyn.
"Yes. It's as good a motive as any other. Better than most. I don't fancy I'm in a position to make suggestions about other people." He said this with a sort of defiance, looking out of the window and half-smiling.
"This sort of thing,"added Cubitt, "finds out the thin patches in one's honest}'." "If you can admit as much,"said Alleyn quickly, "perhaps they are not so very thin." "Thanks,"said Cubitt dryly.
"Well,"began Parish with the air of running after the conversation, "I don't altogether agree with you, Norman. I make no secret about dear old Luke leaving the rest of this money to me. In a way it was the natural thing for him to do. I'm his next-of-kin." "But I,"said Cubitt, "am no relation at all." "Oh, my dear old boy I"cried Parish in a hurry, "you were his best friend. Luke said so when he-----"Parish stopped short.
"To revert,"said Alleyn, "to Mr. Legge. You were going to talk about Mr. Legge, weren't you? " "I was,"said P
arish. "I can't help what you think, Norman, old boy. It seems to me that Legge's hand in this ghastly business is pretty obvious. Nobody but Legge could have known the poisoned dart would take effect. I must say I don't see that there's much mystery about it." "And the motive? "asked Cubitt.
Alleyn said, "I understand your cousin told you that he and Mr. Legge were strangers to each other." "I know he did,"said Parish, "but I don't believe it was true. I believe Luke recognised Legge. Not at first, perhaps, but later. During that first evening in the bar. I suppose you know that Legge smashed into my cousin's car before ever he got here? That's a bit funny, too, when you come to think of it." "What,"asked Cubitt, "is the dark inference, Seb?
Why was it funny? Do you suppose that Legge lurked round Diddlestock corner in a two-seater, and that every time he heard a powerful car coming down Ottercombe Road, he hurled his baby out of cover in the hopes of ramming Luke? " "Oh, don't be an ass. I simply mean it was a coincidence."
