by Ngaio Marsh
“You do not, I notice, suggest that I bathe my injuries in the spring.”
“No,” he said, and they exchanged a smile.
“I had intended to call upon you tomorrow with reference to my proposals. Have you heard of them?”
“I have. But I’m not going to discuss them with you tonight.”
“Do you object? To my proposals?”
“No. Good night, Miss Pride. Please don’t get up until I’ve seen you.”
“And yet they would not, I imagine, be to your advantage.”
There was a tap on the door and Mrs. Barrimore came in.
“Miss Pride,” she said. “I’m so sorry. I’ve just heard. I’ve come to see if there’s anything…” She looked at Dr. Mayne.
“Miss Pride’s quite comfortable,” he said. “Jenny’s going to settle her down. I think we’ll leave her in charge, shall we?”
He waited while Mrs. Baltimore said another word or two, and then followed her out of the room. He shut the door, and they moved down the passage.
“Bob,” she said, “what is it? What happened? Has she been attacked?”
“Probably some lout from the village.”
“You don’t think…”
“No.” He looked at her. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Don’t worry so, Margaret.”
“I can’t help it. Did you see Keith?”
“Yes. He’s overdone it, tonight. Flat out in the old bar-parlour. I’ll get him up to bed.”
“Does Patrick know?”
“I’ve no idea.”
“He wasn’t flat out an hour ago. He was in the ugly stages. He — he — was talking so wildly. What he’d do to her — to Miss Pride. You know?”
“My dear girl, he was plastered. Don’t get silly ideas into your head, now, will you? Promise?”
“All right,” she said. “Yes. All right.”
“Good night,” he said and left her there with her fingers against her lips.
On the next day, Tuesday, Miss Emily kept to her room, where in the afternoon she received, in turn, Mr. Nankivell (the Mayor of Portcarrow), Dr. Mayne and the Reverend Mr. Carstairs. On Wednesday, she called at Wally’s cottage. On Thursday she revisited the spring, mounted to her observation post, and remained there, under her umbrella, for a considerable time, conscientiously observed by Sergeant Pender, to whom she had taken a fancy, and by numerous visitors as well as several of the local characters, including Miss Cost, Wally Trehern and his father.
On Friday she followed the same routine — escaping a trip wire, which had been laid across her ascent to the ledge and removed by Mr. Pender two minutes before she appeared on the scene.
An hour later, this circumstance having been reported to him, Superintendent Alfred Coombe rang up Roderick Alleyn at his holiday address.
Alleyn was mowing his host’s tennis court when his wife hailed him from the terrace. He switched the machine off.
“Telephone,” she shouted. “Long distance.”
“Damnation!” he said and returned to the house. “Where’s it from, darling?”
“Portcarrow. District Headquarters. That’ll be Miss Emily, won’t it?”
“Inevitably, I fear.”
“Might it be only to say there’s nothing to report?” Troy asked doubtfully.
“Most unlikely.”
He answered the call, heard what Coombe had to say about the stone throwing and turned his thumb down for Troy’s information.
“Mind you,” Coombe said, “it might have been some damned Ted, larking about. Not that we’ve had trouble of that sort on the Island. But she’s raised a lot of feeling locally. Seeing what you’ve told us, I thought I ought to let you know.”
“Yes, of course. And you’ve talked to Miss Pride?”
“I have,” said Coombe with some emphasis. “She’s a firm old lady, isn’t she?”
“Gibraltar is as butter compared to her.”
“What say?”
“I said: Yes, she is.”
“I asked her to let me know what her plans might be for the rest of the day. I didn’t get much change out of her. The doctor persuaded her to stay put on Tuesday; but ever since, she’s been up and about — worse luck. She’s taken to sitting on this shelf above the spring and looking at the visitors. Some of them don’t like it.”
“I bet they don’t.”
“The thing is, with this Festival coming along tomorrow the place is filling up and we’re going to be fully extended. I mean, keeping observation, as you know, takes one man all his time.”
“Of course. Can you get reinforcements?”
“Not easily. But I don’t think it’ll come to that. I don’t reckon it’s warranted. I reckon she’ll watch her step after this. But she’s tricky. You’ve got to face it: she is tricky.”
“I’m sorry to have landed you with this, Coombe.”
“Well, I’d rather know. I’m glad you did. After all, she’s in my district — and if anything did happen…”
“Has there been anything else?”
“That’s why I’m ringing. My chap, Pender, found a trip wire stretched across the place where she climbs to her perch. He was hanging about, waiting for her to turn up, and noticed it. Workmanlike job. Couple of iron pegs and a length of fine clothesline. Could have been nasty. There’s a five-foot drop to the pond. And rocks.”
“Did you tell her?”
“Yes. She said she’d have spotted it for herself.”
“When was this?”
“This morning. About an hour ago.”
“Damn.”
“Quite so.”
“Does she suspect anyone?”
“Well, yes. She reckons it’s a certain lady. Yes, Mr. Mayor. Good morning, sir. I won’t keep you a moment.”
“Has your Mayor just walked in?”
“That’s right.”
“Did you, by any chance, mean the shopkeeper? Miss Cost, is it?”
“That’s right.”
“I’ll ring up Miss Pride. I suppose she knocks off for lunch, does she? Comes off her perch?”
“That’s right. Quite so.”
“What’s the number of the pub?”
“Portcarrow 1212.”
“You’ll keep in touch?”
“That’ll be quite all right, sir. We’ll do that for you.”
“Thank you,” Alleyn said. “No matter what they say, I’ve got great faith in the police. Good-bye.”
He heard Coombe give a chuckle, and hung up.
“Oh, Rory!” his wife said. “Not again? Not this time? It’s being such fun, our holiday!”
“I’m going to talk to her. Come here to me and keep your fingers crossed. She’s hell when she’s roused. Come here.”
He kept his arm round her while he waited for the call to go through. When at last Miss Emily spoke, from her room at the Boy-and-Lobster, Troy could hear her quite clearly though she had some difficulty in understanding, since Miss Emily spoke in French. So did Alleyn.
“Miss Emily, how are you getting on?”
“Perfectly well, I thank you, Rodrigue.”
“Have there been unpleasantnesses of the sort that were threatened?”
“Nothing of moment. Do not disarrange yourself on my account.”
“You have been hurt.”
“It was superficial.”
“You might well have been hurt again.”
“I think not.”
“Miss Emily, I must ask you to leave the Island.”
“In effect: you have spoken to the good Superintendent Coombe. It was kind, but it was not necessary. I shall not leave the Island.”
“Your behaviour is, I’m afraid, both foolish and inconsiderate.”
“Indeed? Explain yourself.”
“You are giving a great deal of anxiety and trouble to other people. You are being silly, Miss Emily.”
“That,” said Miss Emily distinctly, “was an improper observation.”
“Unfortunately, not. If you
persist I shall feel myself obliged to intervene.”
“Do you mean, my friend,” said Miss Emily with evident amusement, “that you will have me arrested?”
“I wish I could. I wish I could put you under protective custody.”
“I am already protected by the local officer, who is, for example, a man of intelligence. His name is Pender.”
“Miss Emily, if you persist you will force me to leave my wife.”
“That is nonsense.”
“Will you give me your word of honour that you will not leave the hotel unaccompanied?”
“Very well,” said Miss Emily after a pause. “Understood.”
“And that you will not sit alone on a shelf? Or anywhere? At any time?”
“There is no room for a second occupant on the shelf.”
“There must be room somewhere. Another shelf. Somewhere.”
“It would not be convenient.”
“Nor is it convenient for me to leave my wife and come traipsing down to your beastly Island.”
“I beg that you will do no such thing. I assure you —” Her voice stopped short. He would have thought that the call had been cut off if he hadn’t quite distinctly heard Miss Emily catch her breath in a sharp gasp. Something had fallen.
“Miss Emily!” he said. “Hullo! Hullo! Miss Emily!”
“Very well,” her voice said. “I can hear you. Perfectly.”
“What happened?”
“I was interrupted.”
“Something’s wrong. What is it?”
“’No, no. It is nothing. I knocked a book over. Rodrigue, I beg that you do not break your holiday. It would be rather ridiculous. It would displease me extremely, you understand. I assure you that I will do nothing foolish. Good-bye, my dear boy.”
She replaced the receiver.
Alleyn sat with his arm still round his wife. “Something happened,” he said. “She sounded frightened. I swear she was frightened. Damn and blast Miss Emily for a pigheaded old effigy. What the hell does she think she’s up to?”
“Darling: She promised to be sensible. She doesn’t want you to go. Does she, now?”
“She was frightened,” he repeated. “And she wouldn’t say why.”
At the same moment Miss Emily, with her hand pressed to her heart, was staring at the object she had exposed when she had knocked the telephone directory on its side.
This object was a crude plastic image of a Green Lady. A piece of ruled paper had been jammed down over the head, and on it was pasted a single word of newsprint:
DEATH
Miss Emily surveyed the assembled company.
There were not enough chairs for them all in her sitting-room. Margaret Barrimore, the Rector and the Mayor were seated. Jenny and Patrick sat on the arms of Mrs. Barrimore’s chair. Major Barrimore, Superintendent Coombe and Dr. Mayne formed a rather ill-assorted group of standees.
“That, then,” said Miss Emily, “ is the situation. I have declared my purpose. I have been threatened. Two attempts have been made upon me. Finally, this object”—she waved her hand in the direction of the Green Lady, which, with its unlovely label still about its neck, simpered at the company—“this object has been placed in my room by someone who evidently obtained possession of the key.”
“Now, my dear Miss Pride,” Barrimore said, “I do assure you that I shall make the fullest possible investigation. Whoever perpetrated this ridiculous—” Miss Emily raised her hand. He goggled at her, brushed up his moustache and was silent.
“I have asked you to meet me here,” she continued, exactly as if she had not been interrupted, “in order to make it known, first, that I am not, of course, to be diverted by threats of any sort. I shall take the action I have already outlined. I have particularly invited you, Mr. Mayor, and the Rector and Dr. Mayne, because you are persons of authority in Portcarrow and also because each of you will be affected in some measure by my decision. As, perhaps more directly, will Major Barrimore and his family. I regret that Miss Cost finds she is unable to come. I have met each of you independently since I arrived and I hope you are all convinced that I am not to be shaken in my intention.”
Mr. Nankivell made an unhappy noise.
“My second object in trespassing upon your time is this. I wish, with the assistance of Superintendent Coombe, to arrive at the identity of the person who left this figurine, with its offensive label, on my desk. It is presumably the person who is responsible for the two attempts to inflict injury. It must have been — I believe ‘planted’ is the correct expression — while I was at luncheon. My apartment was locked. My key was on its hook on a board in the office. It is possible to remove it without troubling the attendant and without attracting attention. That is what must have been done, and done by a person who was aware of my room number. Unless, indeed, this outrage was performed by somebody who is in possession of, or has access to, a duplicate or master key.” She turned with splendid complacency to Superintendent Coombe. “That is my contention,” said Miss Emily. “Perhaps you, Mr. Coombe, will be good enough to continue the investigation.”
An invitation of this sort rested well outside the range of Superintendent Coombe’s experience. Under the circumstances, he met the challenge with good sense and discretion. He kept his head.
“Well, now,” he said. “Miss Pride, Mr. Mayor, and ladies and gentlemen: I’m sure we’re all agreed that this state of affairs won’t do. Look at it whatever way you like, it reflects no credit on Portcarrow mainland or the Island.”
“Yurr-yurr,” said the Mayor, who was clearly fretted by the minor role for which he seemed to be cast. “Speak your mind, Alfred! Go ahead.”
“So I will, then. Now. As regards the stone throwing and the trip wire incidents. Inquiries have been put in hand. So far, from information received, I have nothing to report. As regards this latest incident: in the ordinary course of events, it having been reported to the police, routine inquiries would be undertaken. That would be the normal procedure.”
“It has been reported,” said Miss Emily. “And I have invited you to proceed.”
“The method, if you will pardon me, Miss Pride, has not been normal. It is not usual to call a meeting on such an occasion.”
“Evidently, I have not made myself clear. I have called the meeting in order that the persons who could have effected an entry into this room, by the means I have indicated, may be given an opportunity of clearing themselves.”
This pronouncement had a marked but varied effect upon her audience. Patrick Ferrier’s eyebrows shot up and he glanced at Jenny, who made a startled grimace. Mrs. Barrimore leaned forward in her chair and looked, apparently with fear, at her husband. He, in his turn, had become purple in the face. The Mayor’s habitual expression of astonishment was a caricature of itself. Dr. Mayne scrutinized Miss Emily as if she were a test case for something. The Rector ran his hands through his hair and said: “Oh, but surely…”
Superintendent Coombe, with an air of abstraction, stared in front of him. He then produced his notebook and contemplated it as if he wondered where it had sprung from.
“Now, just a minute!” he said.
“I must add,” said Miss Emily, “that Miss Jenny Williams may at once be cleared. She very kindly called for me, assisted me downstairs, and to my knowledge remained in the dining-room throughout luncheon, returning to my table to perform the same kind office. Do you wish to record this?”
He opened his mouth, shut it again and actually made a note.
“It will perhaps assist the inquiry if I add that Major Barrimore did not come into the dining-room at all, that Mrs. Barrimore left it five minutes before I did, and that Mr. Patrick Ferrier was late in arriving there. They will no doubt wish to elaborate.”
“By God!” Major Barrimore burst out. “I’ll be damned if I do! By God, I’ll—”
“No, Keith! Please!” said his wife.
“You shut up, Margaret.”
“I suggest,” Patrick said, “that
on the whole it might be better if you did.”
“Patrick!” said the Rector. “No, old boy.”
Superintendent Coombe came to a decision.
“I’ll ask you all for your attention, if you please,” he said and was successful in getting it. “I don’t say this is the way I’d have dealt with the situation,” he continued, “if it had been left to me. It hasn’t. Miss Pride has set about the affair in her own style, and has put me in the position where I haven’t much choice but to take up the inquiry on her lines. I don’t say it’s a desirable way of going about the affair, and I’d have been just as pleased if she’d had a little chat with me first. She hasn’t, and that’s that. I think it’ll be better for all concerned if we get the whole thing settled and done with, by taking routine statements from everybody. I hope you’re agreeable.”
Patrick said quickly: “Of course. Much the best way.”
He stood up. “I was late for lunch,” he said, “because I was having a drink with George Pender in the bar. I went direct from the bar to the dining-room. I didn’t go near the office. What about you, Mama?”
Mrs. Barrimore twisted her fingers together and looked up at her son. She answered him as if it were a matter private to them both. “Do you mean, what did I do when I left the dining-room? Yes, I see. I–I went into the hall. There was a crowd of people from the bus. Some of them asked about — oh, the usual things. One of them seemed — very unwell — and I took her into the lounge to sit down. Then I went across to the old house. And—”
Dr. Mayne said: “I met Mrs. Barrimore as she came in. I was in the old house. I’d called to have a word with her about Miss Pride. To learn if she was”—he glanced at her—“if she was behaving herself,” he said drily. “I went into the old bar-parlour. Major Barrimore was there. I spoke to him for a minute or two, and then had a snack lunch in the new bar. I then visited a patient who is staying in the hotel, and at 2:30 I called on Miss Pride. I found her busy at the telephone, summoning this meeting. At her request I have attended it.”
He had spoken rapidly. Mr. Coombe said: “Just a minute, if you please, Doctor,” and they were all silent while he completed his notes. “Yes,” he said at last. “Well, now. That leaves His Worship, doesn’t it, and—”
