Ngaio Marsh - Death At The Bar

by Ngaio Marsh

  Alleyn was about to leave him in this plight when, perhaps as a last desperate bid for official approval, Mr. Nark made a singular statement.

  "The Garden of Eden,"he said, "as any eddicated chap knows, is bunk. You can't tell me there's any harm in apples. I grow 'em. Us started off as a drop of jelly.

  We've come on gradual ever since, working our way up through slime and scales and tails to where we are. We had to have a female to do the job. Us knows that.

  Biological necessity. But she's been a poisonous snare and a curse to us as even the ignorant author of Genesis had spotted and noted down in his foolish fashion, under cover of a lot of clap-trap. She's wuss than a serpent on her own, and she's mostly always at the back of our troubles. Searchy la fern as the French detectives say and you ought to bear in mind. This ghastly affair started a year ago and there's three alive now that knows it. There was four." Alleyn realised with a sinking heart that he would have to pay attention to Mr. Nark. He saw in Mr. Nark a desire for fame struggling with an excessive natural timidity. Mr. Nark hungered for the admiring attention of the experts. He also dreaded the law, to which he seemed to accord the veneration and alarm of a neophyte before the altar of some tricky and fickle deity. Alleyn decided that he must attempt to speak to him in his own language.

  He said, "That's very interesting, Mr. Nark. Strange, isn't it. Fox? Mr. Nark has evidently--"he fumbled for the magic word, "--evidently made the same deductions as we have from the evidence in hand." Fox gave his superior a bewildered and disgusted glance. Alleyn said rather loudly, "See what I mean, Fox? " Fox saw. "Very striking, sir,"he said. "We'll have to get you into the force, Mr. Nark." Mr. Nark buttoned his coat.

  "What'll you take, gentlemen? "he asked.

  But it was heavy going. To get any sense out of him Alleyn had to flatter, hint, and cajole. A direct suggestion threw him into a fever of incoherence, at a hint of doubt he became huffy and mysterious. As she seemed to be the only woman in the case, Alleyn attempted to crystallize on Decima.

  "Miss Moore,"he said at last, "is naturally very much upset by Mr. Watchman's death." "Ah,"said Mr. Nark. "Is she? She may be.

  P'raps I I don't know anything about women. She may be. Huh!" Alleyn achieved a knowing laugh in which Fox joined.

  "You look below the surface, I see,"said Alleyn.

  "I base my deductions on facts. Take an example," said Mr. Nark. His third drink, a Treble Extra, had begun to have a mellowing effect. His native burr returned to his usually careful utterance and he smiled knowingly.

  "Take an example. I don't say it's true to natur'. It's an illustration. A parrible. If I takes a stroll up along Apple Lane of a warm night and hears a courting couple 'tother side of hedge in old Jim Moore's orchard, I draws my own conclusions. Doan't I? " "No doubt." "'Ess. And ef."said Mr. Nark, "ef I do bide thurr not with idea of eavesdropping but only to reflect and ponder in my deep bitter manner on the wiles of females in gineral, and ef I yurrs a female voice I axpects to yurr, and a maskeline voice I doan't axpects to yurr, and ef,"continued Mr. Nark fighting his way to the end of his sentence, "I says ' Hallo I to myself and passes on a step, and ef I meets the owner of the maskeline voice I did axpect to yurr, standing sly and silent in hedge : what do I say? Wait a bit. Doan't tell me. I'll tell you. I says ' Dum it! ' I says, ' thurr'll be bloodshed along of this yurr if us doan't look out.' And ef I bides a twelve month or more and nothing happens and then something does happen, bloody and murderous, what do I say then?" Mr. Nark raised his hand as a signal that this question also was rhetorical and paused for so long that Fox clenched both his fists and Alleyn had time to light a cigarette.

  "I sez,"said Mr. Nark loudly, "not a damn' thing." "What 1 "ejaculated Alleyn.

  "Not a damn' thing. But I thinks like a furnace." "What do you think, Mr. Nark? "asked Alleyn with difficulty.

  "I thinks 'tis better to yold my tongue ef I want to keep breath in my body. And I yolds it. 'Ess fay, I be mum and I stays mum," Mr. Nark brought off a mysterious gesture with his right forefinger, leered knowingly at Alleyn. and tacked rapidly towards the door. Once there, he turned to deliver his last word.

  "Doan't you go calling my words statements,"he said. "They're a nallegory, and a nallegory's got nothing to do with the law. You doan't trip me up thicky fashion.

  I know natur. of an oath. Seachy la fern."

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN ALLEYN EXCEEDS HIS DUTY

  after they had lunched Alleyn brought his report up to date and Fox, sitting solemnly at the parlour table, typed it in duplicate. Alleyn had a brief interview with Abel Pomeroy and returned with three tumblers. One of these he smashed to splinters with the poker, keeping the pieces together, and emptying them into a tin. The other two he wrapped up and placed, with a copy of his report, in his case. He also spent some time throwing down darts and finding that they stuck in the floor. These employments at an end, they drove to Illington. The day had turned gloomy, heavy rain was falling, and the road was slimy.

  Alleyn dropped Fox at Woolworths and went on to Dr. Shaw's house at the end of the principal street. He was shown into a surgery that smelt of leather, iodine, and ether. Here he found Dr. Shaw who was expecting him.

  Alleyn liked the look of Dr. Shaw. He had an air of authority and a pleasing directness of manner.

  "I hope I'm not an infernal nuisance, coming at this hour,"said Alleyn. "Your patients——" "That's all right. Surgery doesn't start till two. Old trot sitting out there in the waiting-room. Malade zmaginaire. Do her good to wait a bit, she plagues my life out. Sit down. What do you want to talk about? " "Principally about the wound and the dart. I've read the police report of the inquest." Thought it rather full of gaps? So it is. Mordant, the coroner, you know, is a dry old stick, but he's got his wits about him. Respectable bacteriologist in his day. He and Harper got their heads together, I imagine, and decided just how much would be good for the jury. What about the wound? " "Were there any traces of cyanide, prussic acid, or whatever the blasted stuff is? " "No. We got a man from London, you know. One of your tame experts. Good man. Mordant and I were both there when he made his tests. We didn't expect a positive result from the wound." "Why not? " "Two reasons. He'd bled pretty freely and, if the stuff was introduced on the dart, what wasn't absorbed would be washed away by blood. Also, the stuff's very volatile." "They found the trace on the dart." "Yes. Oates kept his head and put the dart into a clean soda-water bottle and corked it up. Couldn't do that with the finger." "Even so, wouldn't you expect the stuff to evaporate on the dart." Dr. Shaw uttered a deep growl and scratched his cheek.

  "Perfectly correct,"he said, "you would. Puzzling." "Doesn't it look as if the Scheele's acid, or rather the fifty per cent prussic acid solution, must have been put on the dart a very short time before Oates bottled it up?" "It does. Thought so all along." "How long was it, after the eve nt, that you got there? " "Within half an hour after his death." "Yes. Now, look here. For private consumption only, would you expect a cyanide solution, however concentrated, to kill a man after that fashion? " Dr. Shaw thrust his hands in his pockets and stuck out his lower lip.

  "I'm not a toxicologist,"he said. "Mordant is, and we've taken the king-pin's opinion. Watchman, on his own statement, had a strong idiosyncrasy for cyanide.

  He told Parish and Cubitt about this the night before the tragedy." "Yes. I saw that in the files. It's good enough, you think? " "We've got no precedent for the affair. The experts seem to think it good enough. That dart was thrown with considerable force. It penetrated to the bone, or rather, it actually entered the finger at such an angle that it must have lain along the bone. It's good enough." "There was no trace of cyanide in the mouth? " "None. But that doesn't preclude the possibility of his having taken it by the mouth." "0 Lord I "sighed Alleyn, "nor it does. Did the room stink of it? " "No, it stank of brandy. So did the body. Brandy, by the way, is one of the antidotes given for cyanide poisoning. Along with artificial respiration, potassium permanganate, glucose, and half a dozen other r
emedies none of which is much use if the cyanide has got into the bloodstream." "Have you a pair of scales? "asked Alleyn abruptly.

  "Chemical scales or larger but accurate scales? " "What? Yes. Yes, I have. Why? " "Fox, my opposite number, will be here in a minute.

  He's calling at the police station for the fragments of broken tumbler. I've got a rather fantastic notion.

  Nothing in it, I dare say. We've a pair of scales at the pub, but I thought you might be amused if we did a bit of our stuff here." "Of course I would. Wait a moment while I get rid of that hypochondnacal crone. Shan't be long. Don't move. She only wants a flea in her ear." Dr. Shaw went into the waiting-room. Alleyn could hear his voice raised in crisp admonishment.

  "----pull yourself together, you know.... sound as a bell... take up a hobby... your own physician... be a sensible woman." A doorbell rang and in a moment Fox and Superintendent Harper were shown into the surgery.

  "Hallo, hallo I "said Harper. "What's all this I hear? Thought I'd come along. Got an interesting bit of news for you."He dropped his voice. "I sent a chap up to London by the milk train. He's taken the dart to Dabs and they've just rung through. The prints are good enough. What do you think they've found? " "I can see they've found something. Nick,"said Alleyn, smiling.

  "You bet they have. Those prints belong to Mr.

  Montague Thringle who did four years for embezzlement and came out of Broadmoor twenty-six months ago." "Loud cheers,"said Alleyn, "and much laughter." "Eh? Yer, and that's not the best of it. Who do you think defended one of the accused and shifted all the blame on to Thringle? " "None other than Luke Watchman, the murdered K.C.? " "You're right. Legge's a gaolbird who owes, or thinks he owes, his sentence to Watchman. He's just dug himself in pretty, with a nice job and a lot of mugs eating out of his hand, and along comes the very man who can give him away." "Now I'll tell you something you don't know,"said Alleyn. "Who do you think was implicated with Montague Thringle and got off with six months? " "Lord Bryonie. Big scandal it was." "Yes. Miss Darragh's unfortunate cousin, the Lord Bryonie." "You don't tell me that. Miss Darragh I I'd put her right out of the picture." "She holds a watching-brief for ThringlealiasLegge, I fancy,"said Alleyn, and related the morning's adventure.

  "By gum I "cried Harper, "I think it's good enough.

  I reckon we're just about right for a warrant. With the fact that only Legge could have known the dart would hit --what d'you think? Shall we pull him in? " "I don't think we'll make an arrest just yet, Nick." "Why not? " "Well, I think the result would be what the highbrows call a miscarriage of justice. I'll tell you why.

  II But before he had finished telling them why, an unmistakable rumpus in the street announced the arrival of Colonel Brammington's car. And presently Colonel Brammington himself came charging into the room with Dr. Shaw on his heels.

  "I saw your car outside,"he shouted. "A galaxy of all the talents with Aesculapius to hold the balance.

  Aesculapius usurps the seat of justice, poetic justice with her lifted scale." Dr. Shaw put a small pair of scales on the table and grinned. Colonel Brammington took one of Alleyn's cigarettes and hurled himself into a chair.

  "Curiosity,"he said, "was praised by the great Doctor as one of the permanent and certain characteristics of a vigorous intellect. His namesake, the rare Ben, remarked that he did love to note and to observe. With these noble precedents before me I shall offer no excuse, but, following the example of Beatrice, shall like a lapwing run, close to the ground, to hear your confidence.

  An uncomfortable feat and one for which my great belly renders me unfit. Have you any matches? Ah, thank you." Harper, with his back to the chief constable, turned his eyes up for the edification of Fox. He laid a tin box on the table.

  "Here you are, Mr. Alleyn." "Good."Alleyn weighed the box speculatively in his hands and then emptied its contents into the scale.

  "What is that? "demanded Colonel Brammington.

  "Sir,"'murmured Alleyn politely, "to find out their weight." Colonel Brammington said mildly, "You mock me, by heaven. And what do they weigh? " "Two ounces, forty-eight grains. That right, Dr.

  Shaw? " "That's it." Alleyn returned the fragments to their box and took a second box from his pocket, "In this,"he said, "are the pieces of an identically similar glass for which I gave Mr. Pomeroy one and sixpence. They are his best glasses. Now then." He tipped the second shining heap into the scales.

  "Yes, by George,"said Alleyn softly. "Look. Two ounces, twenty-four grains." "Here I "exclaimed Harper. "That's less. It must be a lighter glass." "No,"said Alleyn. "It's the same brand of glass.

  Abel took the glasses for the brandy from a special shelf.

  I've borrowed two more, unbroken. Let's have them, Fox." Fox produced two tumblers. Each of them weighed two ounces, twenty-four grains.

  "But look here,"objected Harper. "We didn't get every scrap of that glass up. Some of it had been ground into the boards. Watchman's glass should, if anything, weigh less than the others." "I know,"said Alleyn.

  "Well, then----" "Some other glass must have fallen,"said Colonel Brammington. "They were full of distempering draughts, red-hot with drinking. One of them may have let fall some other glass. A pair of spectacles. Didn't Watchman wear an eyeglass? " "It was round his neck,"said Dr. Shaw, "unbroken." "There seems to have been no other glass broken, sir,"said Alleyn. "I've asked. Did you find all the pieces in one place. Harper? " "Like you'd expect, a bit scattered and trampled about. I dare say there were pieces in the soles of their boots. Damn it all,"cried Harper in exasperation, "it •must weigh lighter." He weighed the glass again, peering suspiciously at the scales. The result was exactly the same. The fragments of Watchman's glass weighed twenty-four grains heavier than the unbroken tumbler.

  "This is rather amusing,"said Colonel Brammington.

  Alleyn sat at the table and spread the broken glass over a sheet of paper. Fox gave him a pair of tweezers and he began to sort the pieces into a graduated row. The other men drew closer.

  "It's the same tumbler,"said Colonel Brammington.

  "There, you see, are the points of one of those loathsome stars." Alleyn took a jeweller's lens from his pocket.

  "Ah 1 "muttered Colonel Brammington, staring at him with a bulging and raffish eye. "He peers. He screws a glass into his orb and with enlarged vision feeds his brain." "We always feel rather self-conscious about these things,"said Alleyn, "but they have their uses. Here, I think, are three, no, four small pieces of glass that might be different from—well, let's weigh them." He put them in the scales.

  "Thirty-one grains. That, Harper, leaves a margin of eleven grains for the bits you missed. Any good? " "Do you think these bits are a different class of stuff, Mr. Alleyn? "asked Harper.

  "I think so. There's a difference in colour and if you look closely you can see they're a bit thicker." "He has written a monograph on broken tumblers," cned Colonel Brammington delightedly. "Let me look through your lens." He crouched over the table.

  "They are different,"he said. "You are quite right, my dear Alleyn. What can it mean? The iodine bottle? No, it was found unbroken beneath the settle." "What did you discover at Woolworth's, Fox? "asked Alleyn.

  "Nothing much, Mr. Alleyn. I tried all the other places as well. They haven't sold any and they say there's very little shop-lifting in Illington." "Veil after veil will lift,"remarked Colonel Brammington, "but there will be veil upon veil behind. What is this talk of shop-lifting? " "I'll explain, sir,"began Alleyn.

  "On second thoughts, pray don't. I prefer, Alleyn, to be your Watson. You dine with me to-night? Very good. Give me the evidence, and let me brood." "But don't you wish to hear Mr. Alleyn's case, sir? "asked Harper in a scandalised voice. "Your position----" "I do not. I prefer to listen to voices in the upper air nor lose my simple faith in mysteries. I prefer to take the advice of the admirable Tupper and will let not the conceit of intellect hinder me from worshipping mystery.

  But nevertheless give me your plain plump facts. I will s
ing, with Ovid, of facts." "You will not have Ovid's privilege of inventing them,"rejoined Alleyn. "I have brought a copy of my report on the case. It's up to date." Colonel Brammington took the me and seemed to become the victim of an intolerable restlessness. He rose, hitched up his shapeless trousers and said rapidly in a high voice, "Well, good-bye, Shaw. Come to dinner tonight." "Oh, thank you very much, sir,"said Dr. Shaw.

  "I'd like to. Black tie? " "As the fancy takes you. I shall make some gesture.