Death in Ecstasy (16 page)

After Mr. Ogden had gone Alleyn thrust his hands into his trouser pockets and stood staring at Fox.

“What are we to make of all this, Fox?” he asked, “What do
you
make of it? You’re looking very blank and innocent, and that means you’ve got hold of an idea.”

“Not to say an idea, sir. I wouldn’t go so far as that, I’ve been trying to string up a sequence as you might say.”

“May we hear it? I’ve got to such a state I hardly know which of these creatures is which.”

“Now then, sir,” said Fox good-humouredly, “you know we won’t believe that. Well, this is as far as I’ve got. We know Miss Quayne went out yesterday afternoon. We know she came here between two-thirty and three. We know she got some sort of a shock while she was here. We know the bonds were stolen, but we don’t know when. We know she was murdered last night.”

“True, every word of it.”

“Starting from there,” continued Fox in his slow way, “I’ve wondered. I’ve wondered whether she discovered the theft yesterday afternoon and whether the thief knew she discovered it. She used the word ‘discovery’ in her note. Now if Garnette pinched the bonds she didn’t know it was him or she wouldn’t have left that note for him. That’s if the note
was
meant for him, and I don’t see how it could be otherwise. Well, say the safe was open when she got here, and for some reason she wanted to see the bonds and found they were gone. She perhaps hung round waiting for him until the people began to come in for the afternoon show — the chauffeur chap said they did — and then came away leaving the note. I don’t quite like this,” continued Fox. “It’s got some awkward patches on it. Why did she put the bonds away all tidily? Would the safe be unlocked?”

“She might,” said Alleyn, “have met somebody who said something to upset her. Something about—”

“I say,” interrupted Nigel. “Suppose she met somebody who said they suspected Garnette of foul play and she wanted to warn Garnette against them? How’s that?”

“Not a bad idea, sir,” said Fox. “Not a bad idea at all. Garnette got wind of it and thought he’d polish the lady off before she had time to alter the Will.”

“But how did he get wind of it?” objected Alleyn. “Not through the note. He never read it. And if she wanted to warn him, why should she alter her Will?”

“That’s so,” sighed Fox. “By the way, sir, what
are
the terms of the Will? Has she left him a fair sum?”

Alleyn told him and Fox looked intensely gratified.

“Ten thousand. And twenty-one thousand for the Church. That’s motive enough if you like.”

“How much further did you get with your wondering, Brer Fox? Had you fitted in the two scraps of paper we found in the fireplace?”

“Can’t say I did, sir. Somebody warning the Reverend about something, and it seems to refer to Mrs. Candour, as Mr. Bathgate pointed out. Judging from their position in the grate they were part of a letter thrown there some time during the evening, or at any rate some time yesterday.”

“Certainly, but I don’t agree about Mrs. Candour. I’ve got the thing here. Take another look at it.”

Alleyn produced the two scraps of paper.

“I thought at the time,” he said slowly, “that they were written by Miss Quayne’s old nurse.”

“Good Lord!” ejaculated Fox. “How d’you get that out of it?”

“Yes,” said Nigel, “how the devil did you? He wouldn’t tell me, Inspector Fox.”

“Pretty good, isn’t it?” said Alleyn complacently. “Not so good, however, when the first glory wears off. It’s written in green pencil and there was a green pencil on Miss Quayne’s desk. The M — S is the remains of ‘Miss’ and the CA the beginnings of ‘Cara.’ That’s the top of an R, not an N. The old girl wrote to Garnette warning him off. I fancy it read something like this: ‘Sir: This is to warn you that if you [something or another] with Miss Cara, I am determined to give you in charge. There’s a law in England to save women from men like you.’ Something like that.”

“Yes,” said Fox, “that fits.”

“She made that trip here last night to see if the letter had borne any fruit and watched the show from Garnette’s room. Don’t be cross, Fox! I haven’t had time to tell you before. I’ll let you see the notes of my interview with Nannie Hebborn. The old lady came clean and was very helpful. But that disposes of the note. Garnette must have chucked it in the grate some time yesterday. Now, Fox, what about the book?”

“I reckon Garnette heard Ogden showing it to M. de Ravigne at the party and pinched it,” said Fox. “After all, sir, his prints are on the top of the book and on the wrappings of the parcel. He might have missed wiping them off that part of the book.”

“What about that little drip Claude?” demanded Nigel. “You heard Ogden say he was out when he came for the books. And you remember Claude said that a week before he saw the
Curiosities
here he had put the other books at the back of the shelf. He looked mighty uncomfortable over that. Of course that was when he brought them back from Ogden’s. Suppose
he
pinched it and didn’t want to say so?”

“That’s got to be considered too,” said Alleyn. “I think the stray prints on the top of the leaves are possibly Claude’s, and not Garnette’s. Bailey hasn’t had much success with them.”

“You think
Mr. Wheatley
took the book?” said Fox.

“But,” said Nigel, flushed with triumph, “it hadn’t got a brown paper cover on, so if Claude took it he did so deliberately.”

“Don’t overdo it, Bathgate,” said Alleyn kindly. “This is the pace that kills.”

“Garnette told him to take it,” continued Nigel. “Depend upon it, Garnette told him to take it.”

“He’d never do that, Mr. Bathgate,” objected Fox. “Not if he meant to make use of it. No, I still think Garnette pinched the book himself.”

“Here we go round the mulberry bush for about the millionth time,” said Alleyn wearily, “and why the devil we’re hanging about this beastly place is more than I can tell. Let’s get back to the Yard, Fox. There’s an unconscionable lot of drudgery ahead. Have they tackled the fingerprint game?”

“They’re at it now,” said Fox, as they all walked down the aisle. “And by the way, sir, we’ve checked Dr. Kasbek’s story. He seems to be all right.”

“Good. I rang New York early this morning. They were very polite and will try to find us something about Garnette and Ogden. They can check up Ogden through the address on that letter we found on him. Come on.”

But they were not quite finished with the House of the Sacred Flame. In the closed entry, watched over by an enormous constable, was Miss Wade.

“Oh, officer,” said Miss Wade. She peered up at Alleyn and pitched her voice in a genteel falsetto. “I would like to speak to you for a moment.”

“Certainly,” said Alleyn politely. “I’ll see you in the car, Fox.”

Nigel and Fox walked on, and the constable, with massive tact, withdrew to the outer end of the alley.

“What can I do for you, Miss Wade?” asked Alleyn.

“It is a little matter that has rather troubled me. I am afraid I cannot keep pace with all the dreadful things that have happened since yesterday afternoon. Dear Janey says someone has stolen the money that dear Cara so generously gave to the temple. When did they do this?”

“We don’t know, unfortunately. The bonds were deposited in the safe last month. They had disappeared last night”

“Were they stolen yesterday afternoon?”

“Why do you ask that, Miss Wade?” said Alleyn quickly.

“I only thought that perhaps that was what poor Cara meant when she said she would tell Father Garnette about it.”

Alleyn gazed at Miss Wade rather as though she had suddenly produced a rabbit from somewhere behind her back teeth.

“Would you mind saying that again?” he asked.

Miss Wade repeated her last remark in a somewhat louder voice but with perfect equanimity.

“When,” said Alleyn, “did Miss Quayne say this, and to whom?”

“Yesterday afternoon, to be sure. When else?”

“When else, of course,” repeated Alleyn with some difficulty. “How do you know she said it, if I may ask?”

“Really, officer! Because I overheard her. Naturally.”

“Naturally. In the — the temple?”

“In the temple. Naturally, in the temple.”

“Naturally.”

“It quite upset my meditation. I had come down early before the Neophytes’ instruction to make my preparation for the evening ceremony. I had chosen the word ‘buss’ and had just reached the Outer Portal of the Soul when this interruption occurred. It was provoking. I wished, afterwards, that I had chosen a back pew instead of my Initiate’s throne.”

“I am extremely glad you didn’t,” Alleyn managed to say.

“Shall I continue?”

“Please do.”

“I had held my. breath up to forty-five and exhaled slowly while inwardly repeating the word and, as I say, was about to enter the Outer Portal when she opened the door.”

“Miss Quayne did?”

“Who else? Before that I had not been aware of her presence in Father Garnette’s rooms. She had arrived before I did and had gone through the hall, no doubt. I left my overshoes outside,” added Miss Wade with magnificent irrelevancy.

“She opened the door into Mr. Garnette’s rooms, and then you heard her?”

“Yes. The curtain was hiding her, of course, but she raised her voice and, being in the front, I heard her. Indeed, I felt a little annoyed with dear Cara. The altar door should never be used in meditation hours. Except, of course, by Father himself. And it was well after meditation began. I glanced at my watch. A quarter to three it was.”

“Miss Wade can you repeat exactly what you overheard Miss Quayne say?”

“Her very words. ‘I don’t believe you are speaking the truth’ was what dear Cara said, ‘and I shall tell Father Garnette what you have done.’ ”

Here Miss Wade paused and drew herself up with a little quiver.

“To whom did she speak?”

“I haven’t a notion,” said Miss Wade cosily.

Alleyn stifled a groan.

“No,” she went on, “
that
I do
not
know. Not Father, naturally.”

“Naturally,” repeated poor Alleyn.

“Whoever it was, was
quite
inaudible. And then she came hurrying down into the temple with a great lack of reverence, poor thing. She rushed past me without seeing me, though I remained kneeling and gave her a reproachful glance. There were some neophytes in the back pews. It really
was
naughty of Cara. Such a bad example.”

“Did she seem much upset?”

“Dis — tracted,” said Miss Wade.

“Did anybody come out after her?”

“On the contrary. Father Garnette came
in
at this door about five minutes later. He had been to lunch with M. de Ravigne. He spoke a few words to me. I had quite given up my meditation.”

“Did you mention the incident to him?”

“Now did I?” mused Miss Wade with her head on one side. “No! Definitely not. I would have done so, but he spoke of Higher Things.”

“Have you told anybody else?”

“No, I think not.”

“Then let me implore you not to do so, Miss Wade. What you have just told me is of the greatest importance. Please promise me you will not repeat it.”

Miss Wade bridled.

“Really, officer,” she said. “I am not accustomed…”

“No, no. Never mind all that. Please don’t think me overbearing, but unless you will give me your word that you will keep this incident to yourself I–I shall be obliged to take very drastic measures. Miss Wade, it is for your own sake I insist on this silence. Do you understand?”

“That I don’t,” said Miss Wade with spirit.

Alleyn took one of the little black kid claws in his hand, and he bent his head and smiled at Miss Wade.

“Please,” he said, “to oblige a poor policeman. Do promise.”

She blinked up at him. Something rather youthful came back into her faded eyes. Her cheeks were pink.

“It is a pity you have come down to this sort of work,” said Miss Wade. “You have what my dear Mama used to call quite an air. Very well, I promise.”

Alleyn made her a bow. She tossed her head and went off down the alley-way at a brisk trot.

He stood there and looked thoughtfully after her, his hat in his hand. At last, with a shrug, he went out to where Inspector Fox waited for him in a police car.

“What’s wrong with the old lady?” asked Fox.

“Nothing much. She just felt chatty.”

“Anything of interest?”

“Merely that she overheard Cara Quayne telling her murderer she’d speak to Garnette about him or her as the case may be.”

“Lor’!” said Fox. “When, for Gawd’s sake?”

“At about quarter to three yesterday afternoon.”

“In the hall?”

“Naturally,” said Alleyn promptly. “Listen.”

He repeated Miss Wade’s statement. Fox stared solemnly out of the window.

“Well, that’s very interesting, sir,” he said when Alleyn had finished. “That’s very interesting indeed. Do you think she caught him red-handed with the bonds?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. Or else he (or she, you know, Fox) refused to let her see them. There’s been some talk of her adding to those bonds. She may have wanted to do so on the eve of her first innings as Chosen Vessel.”

“That’s right, sir. D’you think she was poisoned to keep her quiet?”

“I think she was killed, in the end, to keep her quiet. But he meant to do it anyway.”

“How do you make that out?”

“If it’s sodium cyanide he couldn’t make it between three and eight o’clock. He must have had it ready.”

“Then what was the motive?”

“Same as before, Fox. Why are we sitting in this car?”

“I dunno, sir.”

“Tell him to drive yes, tell him to drive to M. de Ravigne’s house.”

Fox gave the order.

“What happened to Mr. Bathgate?” asked Alleyn.

“He went up to his flat, sir. I think he took Miss Jenkins and Mr. Pringle with him.”

“He’s a great hand at cultivating suspects,” said Alleyn.

“It’s been useful before now.”

“So it has.”

They relapsed into silence. At a telephone-box Alleyn stopped for a moment to ring the Yard. A message had come through from Bailey who was at Cara Quayne’s house. The blotting-paper in her bedroom desk had proved to be interesting. Lots of writing but in some foreign lingo. Alleyn could hear Bailey’s disparagement in this phrase. They had made out yesterday’s date and an address: “Madame la Comtesse de Barsac, Chateau Barsac, La Loupe, E. et L., France.” This had been checked up from an address book. They had also found evidence on the blotting-paper and on a crumpled sheet in the wastepaper basket of something that looked very much like a Will. Mr. Rattisbon had rung up and would ring again.