Agatha Christie - They Do It With Mirrors

by Murder

  But last night, there had been no audience. NObody, that is to say, had been facing the stage set that Miss Marple was now facing. The audience, last night, had been sitting with their backs to that particular stage.

  How long, Miss Marple wondered, would it have taken to slip out of the room, run along the corridor, shoot Gulbrandsen and come back? Not nearly so long as one would think. Measured in minutes and seconds a very short time indeed...

  What had Carrie Louise meant when she had said to her husband: 'So that's what you believe - but you're wrong, Lewis!'

  'I must say that that was a very penetrating remark of the Inspector's,' Alex's voice cut in on her meditations.

  'About a stage set being real. Made of wood and cardboard and stuck together with glue and as real on the unpainted as on the painted side. "The illusion," he pointed out, "is in the.eyes of the audience."'

  'Like conjurers,' Miss Marple murmured vaguely.

  'They do it with mirrors is, I believe, the slang phrase.' Stephen Restarick came in, slightly out of breath.

  'Hallo, Alex,' he said. 'That little rat, Ernie Gregg - I don't know if you remember him?'

  'The one who played Feste when you did Twelfth Night? Quite a bit of talent there, I thought.'

  'Yes, he's got talent of a sort. Very good with his hands too. Does a lot of our carpentry. H°wever, that's neither here nor there. He's been boasting to Gina that he gets out at night and wanders about the grounds. Says he was wandering round last night and boasts he saw something.' Alex spun round.

  'Saw what?'

  'Says he's not going to tell. Actually I'm pretty certain he's only trying to show off and get into the limelight. He's an awful liar, but I thought perhaps he ought to be questioned.' Alex said sharply: 'I should leave him for a bit. Don't let him think 'we're too interested.' 'Perhaps - yes, I think you may be right there. This evening, perhaps.' Stephen went on into the library.

  Miss Marple, moving gently round the Hall in her character of mobile audience, collided with Alex Restarick as he steptied back suddenly.

  Miss Marple said, 'I'm so sorry.' Alex frowned at her, said in an absent sort of way: 'I beg your pardon,' and then added in a surprised voice: 'Oh, it's you.' It seemed to Miss Marple an odd remark for someone with whom she had been conversing for some considerable time.

  'I was thinking of something else,' said Alex Restarick.

  'That boy Ernie -' He made vague motions with both hands.

  Then, with a sudden change of manner, he crossed the Hall and went through the library door, shutting it behind him.

  The murmur of voices came from behind the closed door, but Miss Marple hardly noticed them. She was uninterested in the versatile Ernie and what he had seen or pretended to see. She had a shrewd suspicion that Ernie had seen nothing at all. She did not believe for a moment that on a cold raw foggy night like last night, Ernie would have troubled to use his lockpicking activities and wander about in the Park. In all probability he never had got out at night. Boasting, that was all it had been.

  'Like Johnnie Backhouse,' thought Miss Marple, who always had a good storehouse of parallels to draw upon selected from inhabitants of St Mary Mead.

  'I seen you last night,' had been Johnnie Backhouse's unpleasant taunt to all he thought it might affect.

  It had been a surprisingly successful remark. So many people, Miss Marple reflected, have been in places where they are anxious not to be seen!

  She dismissed Johnnie from her mind and concentrated on a vague something which Alex's account of Inspector Curry's remarks had stirred to life. Those remarks had given Alex an idea. She was not sure that they had not given her an idea, too. The same idea? Or a different one?

  She stood where Alex Restarick had stood. She thought to herself, 'This is not a real Hall. This is only cardboard and canvas and wood. This is a stage scene...' Scrappy phrases flashed across her mind. 'Illusion -' 'In the eyes of the audience.' 'They do it with mirrors...' Bowls of goldfish... yards of coloured ribbon. vanishing ladies... all the panoply and misdirection of the conjurer's art.

  Something stirred in her consciousness - a picture something that Alex had said... something that he had described to her... Constable Dodgett puffing and panting... Panting... Something shifted in her mind came into sudden focus.

  'Why of course!' said Miss Marple. 'That must be it...'

  CHAPTER 18

  'Oh, Wally, how you startled me!' Gina, emerging from the shadows by the theatre, jumped back a little, as the figure of Wally Hudd materialized out of the gloom. It was not yet quite dark, but had that eerie half light when objects lose their reality and take on the fantastic shapes of nightmare.

  'What are you doing down here? You never come near the theatre as a rule.' 'Maybe I was looking for you, Gina. It's usually the best place to find you, isn't it?' Wally's soft, faintly drawling voice held no special insinuation, and yet Gina flinched a little.

  'It's a job and I'm keen on it. I like the atmosphere of paint and canvas, and back stage generally.' 'Yes. It means a lot to you. I've seen that. Tell me, Gina, how long do you think it will be before this business is all cleared up?' 'The inquest's tomorrow. It will just be adjourned for a fortnight or something like that. At least, that's what Inspector Curry gave us to understand.' 'A fortnight,' said Wally thoughtfully. 'I see. Say three weeks, perhaps. And after that - we're free. I'm going back to the States then.' 'Oh! but I can't rush off like that,' cried Gina. 'I couldn't leave Grandam. And we've got these two new productions we're working on ' 'I didn't say "we." I said I was going.'

  Gina stopped and looked up at her husband. Some-thing in the effect of the shadows made him seem very big. A big, quiet figure - and in some way, or so it seemed to her, faintly menacing... Standing over her. Threaten-ing - what?

  'Do you mean' - she hesitated - 'you don't want me to come?'

  'Why, no - I didn't say that.'

  'You don't care if I come or not? Is that it?'

  She was suddenly angry.

  'See here, Gina. This is where we've got to have a showdown. We didn't know much about each other when we got married - not much about each other's backgrounds, not much about the other one's folks. We thought it didn't matter. We thought nothing mattered except having a swell time together. Well, stage one is over. Your folks didn't - and don't - think much of me.

  Maybe they're right. I'm not their kind. But if you think I'm staying on here, kicking my heels, and doing odd jobs in what I consider is just a crazy set-up - well, think again! I want to live in my own country, doing the kind of job I want to do, and can do. My idea of a wife is the kind of wife who used to go along with the old pioneers, ready for anything, hardship, unfamiliar country, danger, strange surroundings... Perhaps that's too much to ask of you, but it's that or nothing! Maybe I hustled you into marriage. If so, you'd better get free of me and start again.

  It's up to you. If you prefer one of these arty boys - it's your life and you've got to choose. But I'm going home.'

  'I think you're an absolute pig,' said Gina. 'I'm enjoying myself here.'

  'Is that so? Well, I'm not. You even enjoy murder, I suppose?'

  Gina drew in her breath sharply.

  'That's a cruel wicked thing to say. I was very fond of Uncle Christian. And don't you realize that someone has been quietly poisoning Grandam for months? It's horrible?

  'I told you I didn't like it here. I don't like the kind of things that go on. I'm quitting.' 'If you're allowed to! Don't you realize you'll probably be arrested for Uncle Christian's murder? I hate the way Inspector Curry looks at you. He's just like a cat watching a mouse with a nasty sharp-clawed paw all ready to pounce. Just because you were out of the Hall fixing those lights, and because you're not English, I'm sure they'll go fastening it on you.' 'They'll need some evidence first.' Gina wailed: 'I'm frightened for you, Wally. I've been frightened all along.' 'No good being scared. I tell you they've got nothing on me!' They walked in silence towards the house.

 
; Gina said: 'I don't believe you really want me to come back to America with you...' Walter Hudd did not answer.

  Gina Hudd turned on him and stamped her foot.

  'I hate you. I hate you. You are horrible - a beast - a cruel unfeeling beast. After all I've tried to do for you!

  You want to be rid of me. You don't care if you never see me again. Well, I don't care if/never seeyou again! I was a stupid little fool ever to marry you, and I shall get a divorce as soon as possible, and I shall marry Stephen or Alexis and be much happier than I ever could be with you. And I hope you go back to the States and marry some horrible girl who makes you really miserable?

  'Fine!' said Wally. 'Now we know where we are?

  II Miss Marple saw Gina and Wally go into the house together.

  She was standing at the spot where Inspector Curry had made his experiment with Constable Dodgett earlier in the afternoon.

  Miss Believer's voice behind her made her jump.

  'You'll get a chill, Miss Marple, standing about like that after the sun's gone down.'

  Miss Marple fell meekly into step with her and they walked briskly through the house.

  'I was thinking about conjuring tricks,' said Miss Marple. 'So difficult when you're watching them to see how they're done, and yet, once they are explained, so absurdly simple. (Although, even now, I can't imagine how conjurers produce bowls of goldfish!) Did you ever see the Lady who is Sawn in Half- such a thrilling trick.

  It fascinated me when I was eleven years old, I remember. And I never could think how it was done. But the other day there was an article in some paper giving the whole thing away. I don't think a newspaper should do that, do you? It seems it's not one girl - but two. The head of one and the feet of the other. You think it's one girl and it's really two - and the other way round would work equally well, wouldn't it?'

  Miss Believer looked at her with faint surprise.

  Miss Marple was not often so fluffy and incoherent as this. 'It's all been too much for the old lady,' she thought.

  'When you only look at one side of a thing, you only see one side,' continued Miss Marple. 'But everything fits in perfectly well if you can only make up your mind what is reality and what is illusion.' She added abruptly, 'Is Carrie Louise - all right?' 'Yes,' said Miss Believer. 'She's all right, but it must have been a shock, you know - finding out that someone wanted to kill her. I mean particularly a shock to her, because she doesn't understand violence.' 'Carrie Louise understands some things that we don't,' said Miss Marple thoughtfully. 'She always has.' 'I know what you mean - but she doesn't live in the real world.' 'Doesn't she?' Miss Believer looked at her in surprise.

  'There never was a more unworldly person than Cara ' 'You don't think that perhaps -' Miss Marple broke off, as Edgar Lawson passed them, swinging along at a great pace. He gave a kind of shamefaced nod, but averted his face as he passed.

  'I've remembered now who he reminds me of,' said Miss Marple. 'It came to me suddenly just a few moments ago. He reminds me of a young man called Leonard Wylie. His father was a dentist, but he got old and blind and his hand used to shake, and so people preferred to go to the son. But the old man was very miserable about it, and moped, said he was no good for anything any more, and Leonard who was very softhearted and rather foolish, began to pretend he drank more than he should. He always smelt of whisky and he used to sham being rather fuddled when his patients came. His idea was that they'd go back to the father again and say the younger man was no good.'

  'And did they?'

  'Of course not,' said Miss Marple. 'What happened was what anybody with any sense could have told him would happen! The patients went to Mr Reilly, the rival dentist. So many people with good hearts have no sense.

  Besides, Leonard Wylie was so unconvincing... His idea of drunkenness wasn't in the least like real drunkenness, and he overdid the whisky - spilling it on his clothes, you know, to a perfectly impossible extent.'

  They went into the house by the side door.

  CHAPTER 19

  Inside the house, they found the family assembled in the library. Lewis was walking up and down, and there was an air of general tension in the atmosphere.

  'Is anything the matter?' asked Miss Believer.

  Lewis said shortly: 'Ernie Gregg is missing from roll call tonight.'

  'Has he run away?'

  'We don't know. Maverick and some of the staff are searching the grounds. If we cannot find him we must communicate with the police.'

  'Grandam!' Gina ran over to Carrie Louise, startled by the whiteness of her face. 'You look ill.'

  'I am unhappy. The poor boy...'

  Lewis said: 'I was going to question him this evening as to whether he had seen anything noteworthy last night.

  I have the offer of a good post for him and I thought that after discussing that, I would bring up the other topic.

  Now -' he broke off.

  Miss Marple murmured softly:

  'Foolish boy... Poor foolish boy...'

  She shook her head, and Mrs Serrocold said gently: 'So you think so too, Jane...?'

  Stephen Restarick came in. He said, 'I missed you at the theatre, Gina. I thought you said you would - Hallo, what's up?'

  Lewis repeated his information, and as he finished speaking, Dr Maverick came in with a fair-haired boy with pink cheeks and a suspiciously angelic expression.

  Miss Marple remembered his being at dinner on the night she had arrived at Stonygates.

  'I've brought Arthur Jenkins along,' said Dr Maver-ick.

  'He seems to have been the last person to talk to Ernie.'

  'Now, Arthur,' said Lewis Serrocold, 'please help us if you can. Where has Ernie gone? Is this just a prank?'

  'I dunno, sir. Straight, I don't. Didn't say nothing to me, he didn't. All full of the play at the theatre he was, that's all. Said as how he'd had a smashing idea for the scenery, what Mrs Hudd and Mr Stephen thought was first class.'

  'There's another thing, Arthur. Ernie claims he was prowling about the grounds after lock-up last night. Was that true?'

  "Course it ain't. Just boasting, that's all. Perishing liar, Ernie. He never got out at night. Used to boast he could, but he wasn't that good with locks! He couldn't do anything with a lock as was a lock. Anyway 'e was in larst night, that I do know.'

  'You're not saying that just to satisfy us, Arthur?' 'Cross my heart,' said Arthur virtuously.

  Lewis did not look quite satisfied.

  'Listen,' said Dr Maverick. 'What's that?'

  A murmur of voices was approaching. The door was flung open and looking very pale and ill, the spectacled Mr Baumgarten staggered in.

  He gasped out: 'We've found him - them. It's horrible...'

  He sank down on a chair and mopped his forehead.

  Mildred Strete said sharply: 'What do you mean - found them?'

  Baumgarten was shaking all over.

  'Down at the theatre,' he said. 'Their heads crushed in - the big counterweight must have fallen on them. Alexis Restarick and that boy Ernie Gregg. They're both dead...'

  CHAPTER 20

  'I've brought you a cup of strong soup, Carrie Louise,' said Miss Marple. 'Now please drink it.' Mrs Serrocold sat up in the big carved oak four-poster bed. She looked very small and childlike. Her cheeks had lost their pink flush, and her eyes had a curiously absent look.

  She took the soup obediently from Miss Marple. As she sipped it, Miss Marple sat down in a chair beside the bed.

  'First, Christian,' said Carrie Louise, 'and now Alex and poor, sharp, silly little Ernie. Did he really - know anything?' 'I don't think so,' said Miss Marple. 'He was just telling lies - making himself important by hinting that he had seen or knew something. The tragedy is that somebody believed his lies...' Carrie Louise shivered. Her eyes went back to their far away look.

  'We meant to do so much for these boys... We did do something. Some of them have done wonderfully well.

  Several of them are in really responsible positions. A
few slid back - that can't be helped. Modem civilized conditions are so complex - too complex for some simple and undeveloped natures. You know Lewis's great scheme? He always felt that transportation was a thing that had saved many a potential criminal in the past. They were shipped overseas - and they made new lives in simpler surroundings. He wants to start a modern scheme on that basis. To buy up a great tract of territory - or a group of islands. Finance it for some years, make it a co-operative self-supporting community - with eve-ryone taking a stake in it. But cut off so that the early temptation to go back to cities and the bad old days can be neutralized. It's his dream. But it will take a lot of money, of course, and there aren't many philanthropists with vision now. We want another Eric. Eric would have been enthusiastic.'