Ngaio Marsh - Death At The Bar

by Ngaio Marsh

  Each pattern seemed significant but all melted into fluidity, and he decided, as Alleyn had decided, that the forces that governed these beautiful but inane gestures ranged beyond the confines of his imagination. He fell to appraising the colour and the shifting tones of the water, translating these things into terms of paint, and he began to think of how, in the morning, he would make a rapid study from the lip of the cliff.

  "But I must fix one pattern only in my memory and watch for it to appear in the sequence, like a measure in some intricate saraband." He was so intent on this project that he did not hear Decima come and was startled when she spoke to him.

  "Norman? " Her figure was dark and tall against the sky. He rose and faced her.

  "Have you risen from the sea? "he asked. "You are lovely enough." She did not answer and he took her hand and led her a little way over the headland to a place where their figures no longer showed against the sky. Here they faced each other again.

  "I am so bewildered,"said Decima. "I have tried since this morning to feel all sorts of things. Shame.

  Compassion for Will. Anxiety. I can feel none of them.

  I can only wonder why we should so suddenly have fallen in love." "It was only sudden for you,"said Cubitt. "Not for me." "But——? Is that true. How long——? " "Since last year. Since the first week of last year." Decima drew away from him.

  "But, didn't you know? I thought last year that you had guessed." "About Luke? Yes, I guessed." "Everything? " "Yes, my dear." "I wish very much that it hadn't happened,"said Decima. "Of that I am ashamed. Not for the orthodox reason but because it made such a fool of me ; because I pretended to myself that I was sanely satisfying a need, whereas in reality I merely lost my head and behaved like a dairymaid." "Hallo I "said Cubitt. "You're being very county.

  What's wrong with dairymaids in the proletariat? " "Brute,"muttered Decima and, between laughter and tears, stumbled into his arms.

  "I love you very much,"whispered Cubitt.

  "You'd a funny way of showing it. Nobody ever would have dreamt you thought anything about me." "Oh, yes, they would. They did." "Who? "cried Decima in terror. "Not Will? " "No. Miss Darragh. She as good as told me so. I've seen her eyeing me whenever you were in the offing. God knows I had a hard job to keep my eyes on you. I've wanted like hell to do this." But after a few moments Decima freed herself.

  "This is going the wrong way,"she said. "There mustn't be any of this." Cubitt said, "All right. We'll come back to earth. I promised myself I'd keep my head. Here, my darling, have a cigarette, for God's sake, and don't look at me. Sit down. That's right. Now, listen. You remember the morning of that day? " "When you and Sebastian came over the hill? " "Yes. Just as you were telling Luke you could kill him. Did you? " "No." "Of course you didn't. Nor did I. But we made a botch of things this morning. Seb and I denied that we saw Luke as we came back from Coombe Head, and I think Alleyn knew we were lying. I got a nasty jolt when he announced that he was going to see you. I didn't know what to do. I dithered round and finally followed him, leaving Seb to come home by himself. I was too late. You'd told him? " "I told him that Luke and I quarrelled that morning because Luke had tried—had tried to make love to me. I didn't tell him—Norman, I lied about the rest. I said it hadn't happened before. I was afraid. I was cold with panic. I didn't know what you and Sebastian had told him. I thought, if he found out that I had been Luke's mistress and that we'd quarrelled, he might think---- They say poison's a woman's weapon, don't they? It was like one of those awful dreams. I don't know what I said. I lost my head. And that other man, Fox, kept writing in a book. And then you came and it was as if--oh, as if instead of being alone in the dark and terrified I had someone beside me." "Why wouldn't you stay with me when they'd gone? " "I don't know. I wanted to think. I was muddled." "I was terrified you wouldn't come here tonight, Decima." "I shouldn't have come. What are we to do about Will?" "Tell him." "He'll be so bewildered,"said Decima, "and so miserable." "Would you have married him if this hadn't happened ? " "I haven't said I would marry you." "I have,"said Cubitt.

  "I don't know that I believe in the institution of marriage." "You'll find that out when you've tried it, my darling." "I'm a farmer's daughter. A peasant." "The worst of you communists,"said Cubitt, "is that you're such snobs. Always worrying about class distinctions.

  Come here." "Norman,"said Decima presently, "who do you think it was? " "I don't know. I don't know." Cubitt pressed her hands against him and, after a moment, spoke evenly. "Did Will ever guess about you and Luke? " She moved away from him at arm's length. "You can't think Will would do it? " "Did he guess? ' "I don't think I——" "I rather thought he had guessed."said Cubitt.

  m When Alleyn had gone out, the atmosphere of the taproom changed. Parish began to talk to Abel, Miss Darragh asked Legge when he was moving into Illington, Mr. Nark cleared his throat and, by the simple expedient of shouting down every one else, won the attention of the company.

  "Ah,"he said. "Axing the road to Shankley Court, was he? Ah. I expected it." Abel gave a disgruntled snort.

  "I expected it, repeated Mr. Nark firmly. "I had a chat with the chief inspector this morning.

  "After which, in course,"said Abel, "he knew his business. All he's got to do is to clap handcuffs on somebody." "Abel,"said Mr. Nark, "you're a bitter man. I'm not blaming you. A chap with a tumble load on his conscience, same as what you've got, is scarcely responsible for his words." "On his conscience I "said Abel angrily. "What the devil do you mean? Why doan't 'ee say straight out I'm a murderer? " "Because you're not, Abel. Murder's one thing and negligence is another. Manslaughter is the term for your crime. If proper care had been took, as I told the chief inspector—though, mind you, I'm not a chap to teach a man his own business——" "What sort of a chap did you say you wasn't? " Miss Darragh intervened.

  "I'm sure,"she said, "we all must hope for the end of this terrible affair. Whether 'twas accident, or whether 'twas something else, it's been a dreadful strain and an anxiety for us all." "So it has then. Miss,"agreed Abel. He looked at Legge who had turned his back and was engaged, with the assistance of a twisted handkerchief, on an unattractive exploration of his left ear. "Sooner they catch the murderer the happier all of us'll be." Parish caught Abel's eyes and he too looked at Legge.

  I can't believe,"said Parish, "that a crime like this can go unpunished. I shall not rest content until I know my cousin is avenged." "Ah now, Mr. Parish,"said Miss Darragh, "you must not let this tragedy make the bitter man of you. Sure, you're talking like the Count of Monte Cristo if 'twas he was the character I call to mind." "Do I sound bitter? "asked Parish in his beautiful voice. "Perhaps I do. Perhaps I am." A shadow of something that might have been a twinkle flitted across Miss Darragh's face.

  "A little too bitter,"she said, and it was impossible to tell whether or not she spoke ironically.

  On the floor above them there was a sudden commotion.

  A man's voice spoke urgently. They heard a scuffle of feet and then someone ran along the upstairs passage.

  "What's wrong with the sleuths? "asked Parish.

  No one answered. Miss Darragh took up her knitting.

  Mr. Nark picked his teeth. Parish finished his beer.

  "We all want to see the man caught,"said Legge suddenly. He spoke in his usual querulous, muffled voice.

  He looked ill and he seemed extremely nervous. Miss Darragh glanced at him and said soothingly : "Of course." "Their behaviour,"said Legge, "is abominable.

  Abominable 1 I intend writing a letter to the Commissioner of Scotland Yard. It is disgraceful." Parish planted his feet apart, put his head on one side, and looked at Legge with the expression he used in films of the Bulldog Drummond type. His voice drawled slightly.

  "Feelin' nervous, Legge? "he asked. "Now isn't that a pity." "Nervous 1 I am not nervous, Mr. Parish. What do you mean by----" "Gentlemen,"said old Abel.

  There was a brief silence broken by an urgent clatter of footsteps on the stairs.


  The door into the private tap swung open. Alleyn stood on the threshold. When Miss Darragh saw his face she uttered a sharp cry that was echoed, oddly, by Parish.

  Alleyn said: "Nobody is to move from this room. Understand?

  What's Dr. Shaw's telephone number? " Abel said, "Illington 579, sir." Alleyn kicked the door wide open and moved to the wall telephone just outside. He dialled a number and came into the doorway with the receiver at his ear.

  "You understand,"he said, "none of you is to move.

  Where's Cubitt? " "He's gone out,"said Parish. "What's the matter, Mr. Alleyn, for God's sake." Alleyn was speaking into the receiver.

  "Dr. Shaw? At once, please, it's the police."He eyed them all as he waited.

  "There has been an accident,"he said. "Where's that decanter of sherry? " "Here, sir,"said Abel.

  "Take it by the end of the neck, lock it in the cupboard behind you, and bring the key to me. That you, Shaw? Alleyn. Come at once. Same trouble as last time. I've given an emetic. It's worked, but he's halfcollapsed.

  I'll do artificial respiration. For God's sake be quick." He clicked the receiver and took the key Abel brought him. He dialled another number and spoke to Abel as he dialled it.

  "Lock the shutters and all the doors. Both bars.

  Bring the keys here. Illington Police Station? Gates?

  Inspector Alleyn. I want Mr. Harper and yourself at once at the Plume of Feathers. Jump to it." He hung up the receiver. Abel was clattering round the public bar. Alleyn slammed the shutters in the private bar.

  "If any one opens these shutters or tries to leave this room,"he said, "there will be an arrest on a charge of attempted murder. Bring those others through here." "But, look here----"said Parish.

  "Quiet 1 "said Alleyn and was obeyed. Abel shepherded a couple of astonished fishermen into the private bar. Will Pomeroy followed. Abel slammed down the bar shutter and locked it. He came to Alleyn and gave him the keys. Alleyn pushed him outside, slammed the door, and locked it.

  "Now,"he said, "come up here." He ran up the stairs, taking three at a stride. Abel followed, panting. The door of Alleyn's room was open.

  Fox sat on the bed with the wash-hand basin at his feet.

  His face was curiously strained and anxious. When he saw Alleyn he tried to speak, but something had gone wrong with his mouth. He kept shutting his jaw with a sharp involuntary movement and his voice was thick.

  He jerked his hand at the bowl.

  "Thank God,"said Alleyn. "Can you do yet another heave, old thing? " Fox jerked his head sideways and suddenly pitched forward. Alleyn caught him. "Move that basin,"he ordered. "I want to get him on the floor." Abel moved the basin and together he and Alleyn lowered Fox. Alleyn had wrenched open Fox's collar and tie. He now loosened his clothes. Somewhere in the background of his conscious thoughts was an impression that it was strange to be doing these things to Fox whom he knew so well. He began the movements of resuscitation, working hard and rhythmically. Abel quietly cleared an area round Fox.

  "When you'm tiring, sir,"said Abel, "I'll take a turn." But Alleyn scarcely knew he had a body of his own.

  His body and breath, precariously and dubiously, belonged to Fox. His thoughts were visited by hurrying pictures.

  He saw a figure that shoved and sweated and set the wheels of a great vehicle in motion. A figure turned and turned again at a crank handle. He was aware, at moments most vividly, of his own glass of untouched sherry on the dressing-table. Fox's arms were heavy and stiff. Presently his eyes opened. The pupils had widened almost to the rim of the iris, the eyes had no expression.

  Alleyn's own eyes were half-blinded with sweat. Suddenly the body on the floor heaved.

  "That's better,"said Abel, stooping to the basin, M he'm going to vomit again." Alleyn turned Fox on his side. Fox neatly and prolifically made use of the basin.

  "Brandy,"said Alleyn. "In a bag in the wardrobe." He watched Abel fetch the flask. Alleyn unscrewed the top, smelt at the contents, and took a mouthful. He •quatted on his haunches with the brandy in his mouth.

  The brandy was all right. He swallowed it, poured some into the cap of the flask, and gave it to Fox.

  Downstairs the telephone was pealing.

  "Go and answer it,"said Alleyn.

  Abel went out.

  "Fox,"said Alleyn. "Fox, my dear old thing." Fox's Ups moved. Alleyn took his handkerchief and wiped that large face carefully.

  "Very inconvenient,"said a voice inside Fox.

  "Sorry." "You b—— old b——,"said Alleyn softly.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN MR. LEGGE COMMITS A MISDEMEANOUR

  "i'm better,"said Fox presently. "I'd like to sit up." Alleyn propped him against the bed.

  A car pulled outside and in a moment Alleyn heard a clatter of steps and the sound of voices. Abel came in.

  "Yurr be doctor,"Abel said, "and Nick Harper with police. And colonel's on telephone roaring like proper grampus." "0 Lord I "Alleyn ejaculated. "Abel, tell him what's happened. He'll probably want to come over here.

  Apologise for me. Where's the doctor? " "Here,"said Dr. Shaw, and walked in. "What's the trouble? Hallo I " He went to Fox.

  "I'm better, Doctor,"said Fox. "I've vomited." Dr. Shaw took his pulse, looked at his eyes, and nodded.

  "You'll do,"he said, "but we'll make a job of it.

  Come into the bathroom. You'd better keep that matter in the basin, Alleyn." He opened his bag, took out a tube, and jerked his head at Fox.

  "Here I "said Fox resentfully, eyeing the tube.

  "How did it happen? "asked Dr. Shaw.

  Harper came in.

  "I've left Oates and another man downstairs,"said Harper. "What's up? " "Fox drank a glass of sherry,"said Alleyn. "There's the glass. We'll detain all the crowd downstairs. You too, Mr. Pomeroy. Go down and join them." "Move along, Abel,"said Harper.

  "I yurrd, I yurrd,"grunted Abel irritably, and went out.

  "You'd better go down with them. Nick,"said Alleyn. "Tell Oates to watch our man like a lynx. Abel will show you a decanter. Bring it up here. Here's the key. Use my gloves. You'd better search them. You won't find anything but you'd better do it. Leave Miss Darragh for the moment." Harper went out.

  "Did you take any sherry, Alleyn? "asked Dr. Shaw sharply.

  I? No." Sure? " Perfectly. Why?" You look a bit dicky." I'm all right." Mr. Alleyn has just saved my life for me,"whispered Fox.

  "You come along,"said Dr. Shaw, and led him out.

  Alleyn took an envelope from his pocket and put it over the glass from which Fox had drank. He weighted the envelope with a saucer from his wash-hand stand. He got his bag and took out an empty bottle and a funnel.

  He smelt the sherry in his own glass and then poured it into the bottle, stoppered it, and wrote on the label. He was annoyed to find that his hands shook. His heart thumped intolerably. He grimaced and took another mouthful of brandy.

  Harper came back.

  "Oates and my other chap are searching them,"said Harper. "They made no objections." "They wouldn't. Sit down. Nick,"said Alleyn, "and listen. Put Fox's sick out of the way first, for the Lord's sake. Give it to Shaw. I've got palsy or something." Harper performed this office and sat down.

  "Yesterday evening,"said Alleyn, "Abel Pomeroy opened a bottle of a very sound sherry. Fox and I had a glass each. At a quarter to one to-day Abel decanted the sherry. He, Fox and I had a glass each after it was decanted. George Nark was in the bar. Later on. Miss Darragh, Legge, Parish, Cubitt, and Will Pomeroy came in and we talked about the sherry. They all knew it was for our private use. Some forty minutes ago, Abel poured out two glasses. Fox drank his and within half a minute he was taken very ill. The symptoms 'Were those of cyanide poisoning. I'll swear Abel didn't put anything in the glasses. There's Fox's glass. We'll do our stuff with what's left. I've covered it but we'd better get the dregs into an air-tight bottle. You'll find one in my bag there.

  There's a funnel on the dressing-table. D'you mind doing it? Clean the funnel
out first. I used it for the stuff in my glass." Harper did this.

  "It's a bad blunder,"he said. "What good would it do him? Suppose you'd both been killed? I mean, it's foolish.. Is it panic or spite or both? " "Neither, I imagine. I see it as a last attempt to bolster up the accident theory. The idea is that in the same mysterious way as cyanide got on the dart so it got into the decanter. The decanter, you see, was brought out from the corner cupboard. Mrs. Ives had washed it in about two dozen changes of boiling water. I don't think anybody but Nark and Abel were aware of this. We were no doubt supposed to think the decanter was tainted by being in the cupboard." Superintendent Harper uttered a vulgar and incredulous word.

  "I know,"agreed Alleyn. "Of course it was. But if Fox and (or) I had popped off, you'd have had a devil of a Tob proving it was murder. Oh, it's a blunder, all right.