The Nice and the Good

'Oh not a bit, Sir. She knew all about it. A very cheerful lady and very friendly and polite.'

'Do you think she and Mr Radeechy got on well together?'

'Devoted, Sir, I should say. I've never seen a gentleman so plain miserable as he was after she died. He didn't do any magic for months.'

'Mrs Radeechy wasn't upset by Mr Radeechy's magic?'

'Well, I never saw her upset by anything, but it must have got her down a bit because of the girls.'

'The girls – 'Yes, you see the magic needed girls.'

Now we're coming to it, thought Ducane. He shivered slightly and the room vibrated quietly with electrical animal emanations. 'Yes, I understand that many magic rituals involve girls, often virgins. Perhaps you could tell me a little about these ones.'

'I don't know about virgins!' said McGrath, and laughed a slightly crazy laugh.

Radeechy had him fascinated, it occurred to Ducane. There was a kind of mad admiration in McGrath's laugh. 'You mean the girls whom Mr Radeechy – used – were – well, what were they like? Did you meet them?'

'I saw them a bit, yes,' said McGrath. He was now becoming cautious. He rocked his hand to disturb the persistent fly. He looked up at Ducane, signalling with his colourless eyebrows.

'Tarts, I'd say they were. I never properly saw him at it, mind you.'

'What do you think he did with the girls?' said Ducane. He found himself smiling at McGrath, encouragingly, perhaps con70 spiratorially. The subject matter imposed, almost without their wills, a cosy masculine atmosphere.

'Do with them?' said McGrath, smiling too. 'Well, you know I never saw really, though I did creep back once or twice, and I looked through a window. I was curious, you see. You'd have been curious too, Sir.'

'I expect I would,' said Ducane.

'I mean, I don't think he did any of the usual things, it wasn't that, he was a pretty odd chappie. He had a girl once lying down on a table, and there was a sort of silver cup balanced on her tummy. She had nothing on, mind you:'

Ducane thought, a black mass. 'Did he have the girls there one at a time or several at once?'

'One at a time, Sir, only they couldn't always come, so there were three or four regulars. Once a week it was, punctual on Sundays, and sometimes a special one extra.'

'Anything else that you saw?'

'Not so to speak saw. But he had some rather queer things lying around.'

'What, for instance? T 'Well, whips and daggers and things. But I never saw him use them, on the girls, I mean.'

'I see,' said Ducane. 'Well, now tell me something about Helen of Troy.'

'Helen of Troy?' McGrath's white face turned to a uniform light pink. He withdrew his hands from the desk. 'I don't know anybody of that name.'

'Come, come, Mr McGrath,' said Ducane. 'We know you mentioned someone of that name in your story to the press.

Who is it?'

'Oh, Helen of Troy,' said McGrath vaguely, as if some other Helen had been in question. 'Yes, I believe there was a young lady of that name. She was just one of the young ladies.!

'Why did you say just now you hadn't heard of her?»

'I didn't hear rightly what you said.!

'Hmmm. Well, now tell me about her.'

'There's nothing to tell,' said McGrath. 'I didn't kncw any, thing about the girls. I didn't really meet them. I just heard that one's name and it sort of stuck in my head.'

He's lying, Ducane thought. There's something about this particular girl. He said, 'Do you know the, names of these girls and where they could be found? The police may want to question them.'

'The police?' McGrath's face crinkled up as if he were going to cry.

'Yes,' said Ducane smoothly. 'It's a pure formality of course.

They may be needed at the inquest.'

This was untrue. It had already been arranged with the police that the inquest, which was to take place tomorrow, would involve no exploration of the more 'rum' aspects of the deceased's mode of existence.

'Well, I don't know their names or where any of them lived,'

McGrath mumbled. 'I wasn't co

He won't tell me any more about that, thought Ducane. He said, 'Now, Mr McGrath, I believe that the story which you sold also makes mention of blackmail. Would you kindly tell me what this was all about?'

McGrath's face became pink once more, giving him a somewhat babyish appearance. 'Blackmail?' he said. 'I didn't say anything about blackmail. I didn't mention that word at all.'

'Never mind about the word,' said Ducane. 'Let's talk about the thing. «Some money changed hands,» did it not?'

'I don't know anything about that,' said McGrath. He huddled his head down into his shoulders. 'The laddies at the paper were very keen on that, it was their idea really.'

'But they can't have simply invented it. You must have told them something.'

'They started it,' said McGrath, 'they started it. And I told them I didn't know anything for sure.'

'But you knew something or guessed or surmised something?

What?'

'Mr Radeechy said something about it once, but I might not have understood him properly. I told the laddies '

'What did he say?'

'Let me see,' said McGrath. He gazed full at Ducane now.

'He said, let me see, he said that someone was getting money out of him. But he didn't say who or tell me any more about it.

And I might not have understood him, and I realize now I shouldn't have said anything, but those lads were so keen, as if this was really the best bit of the story.'

He's lying, thought Ducane. At least he's lying about Radeechy. Then with sudden clarity the surmise came to him: the blackmailer was McGrath himself. That the newspaper had pressed him to endorse the hint of blackmail was probably true. Greed had dimmed McGrath's Scottish cu

An inefficient rogue, Ducane thought.

'I suppose you imagined that you could get away with the whole thing, Mr McGrath?' Ducane asked, smiling pleasantly. 'I mean, that we would never find out who sold the story?'

McGrath looked at him with a kind of relief and actually sighed audibly. 'The boys at the paper said no one would ever know.'

'Boys at papers will say anything,' said Ducane, 'if they think they can get a story.'

'Well, I'll know next time,' said McGrath. 'I mean ' They both laughed.

'Am I to understand, Mr McGrath, that what you've just told me is the entire substance of what you told the newspaper men? T 'Yes, Sir, that's the lot, they dressed it up a bit of course in the way they wrote it down, but that's all that I told them.'

'You aren't keeping anything back, Mr McGrath? I should advise you not to, especially as we shall shortly have that story in our hands. Are you sure there isn't anything else you would like to tell me?'

'No, nothing else, Sir.' McGrath paused. Then he said. 'You must be thinking badly of me, Sir. It seems bad, doesn't it, to sell a story about a gentleman when he's just gone and killed himself. But I did need the money, you see, Sir. It wasn't that I didn't like Mr Radeechy, there was nothing personal. He was very good to me, Mr Radeechy was, and I was really fond of him. I'd like you to understand that, Sir. I was real fond of Mr Radeechy.'

'I understand that,' said Ducane. 'I think that's all then, Mr McGrath, for the moment. I won't keep you any longer.'

'For the moment?' said McGrath, a bit dismayed. He rose to his feet. 'Will you be wanting to see me again, Sir? T 'Possibly,' said Ducane. 'Possibly not.'

'Will I have to come to the inquest, Sir? T 'You probably won't be needed at the inquest.'

'Will I be getting the sack from here, do you think, Sir? I've been in the job over ten years. And there's my pension. What happens to that if –?»

'That is a matter for Establishments,' said Ducane. 'Good day to you, McGrath.'