Overture to Death

“Just before we packed up,” said Henry. “About midday.”

“And — I know I’ve been over this before, but it’s important — you all left together?”

“Yes,” said Henry. “We three drove off in the car. I remember that I heard Dinah slam the back door just as we started. They were all out by then.”

“And none of you returned until the evening? I see. When you arrived at a quarter to seven you found Miss Copeland there.”

“Yes,” said Jocelyn.

“Where was she?”

“On the stage with her father, putting flowers in vases.”

“Was the curtain down?”

“Yes.”

“What did you all do?”

“I went to my dressing-room,” said the squire.

“I stayed in the supper-room and talked to Dinah,” said Henry. “Her father was on the stage. After a minute or two I went to my dressing-room.”

“Here!” ejaculated Jocelyn, and glared at Miss Prentice.

“What, dear?”

“Those girls were giggling about in front of the hall: I wonder if any of them got up to any hanky-panky with the piano.”

“Oh, my dear Father!” said Henry.

“They were strictly forbidden to touch the instrument,” said Miss Prentice. “Ever since Cissie Drury did such damage.”

“How long was it before the others arrived? Dr. Templett and Mrs. Ross?” asked Alleyn.

“They didn’t get down until half-past seven,” said Henry. “Dinah was in a frightful stew and so were we all. She rang up Mrs. Ross’s cottage in the end. It took ages to get through. The hall telephone’s an extension from the rectory and we rang for a long time before anybody at the rectory answered and at last, when it was co

“She came with Dr. Templett?”

“Oh, yes,” murmured Miss Prentice.

“The telephone is in your dressing-room, isn’t it, Mr. Jernigham?”

“Mine and Henry’s. We shared. We were all there round the telephone.”

“Yes.” said Alleyn. He looked from one face to another. Into the quiet room there dropped the Sunday morning sound of chiming bells. Miss Prentice rose.

“Thank you so much,” said Alleyn. “I think I’ve got a general idea of the two days now. On Friday afternoon Miss Prentice went to church, Mr. Jernigham hunted, Mr. Henry Jernigham went for a walk. On her return from church, Miss Prentice met Mr. Henry Jernigham and Miss Copeland, who had themselves met by chance in the top lane. That was at about three. Mr. Henry Jernigham returned home by a circuitous route, Miss Prentice by the top lane. Miss Prentice went to her room. At five you had your rehearsal for words in this room, and everybody saw the automatic. You all three dined at home and remained at home. It was also on Friday afternoon that some helpers worked for about an hour at the hall, but apparently they had finished at two-thirty when Miss Prentice passed that way. On Saturday (yesterday) morning Dr. Templett and Mrs. Ross called here for the tie. You all went down to the hall and you, sir, drove to Great Chipping. You all returned for lunch. By this time the piano was in position with the drapery and aspidistras on top. In the afternoon Mr. Henry Jernigham walked up Cloudyfold and back. As far as we know, only Dr. Templett and Mrs. Ross visited the hall yesterday afternoon. At a quarter to seven you all arrived there for the performance.”

“Masterly, sir,” said Henry.

“Oh, I’ve written it all down,” said Alleyn. “My memory’s hopeless.”

“What about your music, Miss Prentice? When did you put it on the piano?”

“Oh, on Saturday morning, of course.”

“I see. You had it here until then?”

“Oh, no,” said Miss Prentice. “Not here, you know.”

“Then, where?”

“In the hall, naturally.”

“It lives in the hall?”

“Oh, no,” she said, opening her eyes very wide, “why should it?”

“I’m sure I don’t know. When did you take it to the hall?”

“On Thursday night for the dress-rehearsal. Of course.”

“I see. You played for the dress-rehearsal?”

“Oh, no.”

“For the love of heaven!” ejaculated Jocelyn. “Why the dickens can’t you come to the point, Eleanor. She wanted to play on Thursday night but her finger was like a bad sausage,” he explained to Alleyn.

Miss Prentice gave Alleyn her martyred smile, shook her head slightly at the bandaged finger, and looked restlessly at the clock.

“H’m,” she said unhappily.

“Well,” said Alleyn. “The music was in the hall from Thursday onwards and you put it in the rack yesterday morning. And none of you went into the hall before the show last night. Good.”

Miss Prentice said, “Well — I think I shall just— Jocelyn, dear, that’s the first bell, isn’t it?”

“I’m sorry,” said Alleyn, “but I should like, if I may, to have a word with you, Miss Prentice. Perhaps you will let me drive you down. Or if not — ”

“Oh,” said Miss Prentice, looking very flurried, “thank you. I think I should prefer — I’m afraid I really can’t — ”

“Cousin Eleanor,” said Henry, “I will drive you down, father will drive you down, or Mr. Alleyn will drive you down. You might even drive yourself down. It is only twenty-five to eleven now and it doesn’t take more than ten minutes to walk down, so you can easily spare Mr. Alleyn a quarter of an hour.”

“I’m afraid I do fuss rather, don’t I, but you see I like to have a few quiet moments before — ”

“Now, look here, Eleanor,” said the squire warmly, “this is an investigation into murder. Good Lord, it’s your best friend that’s been killed, my dear girl, and when we’re right in the thick of it, damme, you want to go scuttling off to church.”

“Jocelyn!”

“Come on, Father,” said Henry. “We’ll leave Mr. Alleyn a fair field.”

iii

“—you see,” said Alleyn, “I don’t think you quite realise your own position. Hadn’t it occurred to you that you were the intended victim?”

“It is such a dreadful thought,” said Miss Prentice.

“I know it is, but you’ve got to face it. There’s a murderer abroad in your land and as far as one can see his first coup hasn’t come off. It’s been a fantastic and horrible failure. For your own, if not for the public’s good, you must realise this. Surely you want to help us.”

“I believe,” said Miss Prentice, “that our greatest succour lies in prayer.”

“Yes,” Alleyn said slowly, “I can appreciate that. But my job is to ask questions, and I do ask you, most earnestly, if you believe that you have a bitter enemy among this small group of people.”

“I ca

Alleyn looked at her with something very like despair. She had refused to sit down after they were alone, but fidgeted about in the centre of the room, looked repeatedly down the Vale, and was thrown into a fever of impatience by the call of the church bells.

A towering determined figure, he stood between Eleanor and the window, and concentrated his will on her. He thought of his mind as a pin-pointed weapon and he drove it into hers.

“Miss Prentice. Please look at me.”

Her glance wavered. Her pale eyes travelled reluctantly to his. Deliberately silent until he felt he had got her whole attention, he held her gaze with his own. Then he spoke. “I may not try to force information from you. You are a free agent. But think for a moment of the position. You have escaped death by an accident. If you had persisted in playing last night you would have been shot dead. I am going to repeat a list of names to you. If there is anything between any one of these persons and yourself which, if I knew of it, might help me to see light, ask yourself if you should not tell me of it. These are the names:

“Mr. Jocelyn Jernigham?

“His son, Henry Jernigham?

“The rector, Mr. Copeland?”

“No!” she cried, “no! Never! Never!”

“His daughter, Dinah Copeland?

“Mrs. Ross?”

He saw the pale eyes narrow a little.