Overture to Death

“God damn it,” said Dr. Templett, “you needn’t watch me like that! I’m not going to take cyanide.”

“Of course not.”

As they skidded round Pen Cuckoo corner, Templett said, “I didn’t do it.”

“All right.”

At the church lane turning the car skated twenty yards on the greasy road, and fetched up sideways. Alleyn held his peace and trod on imaginary brakes. They started off again more reasonably, but entered Chipping at forty miles an hour.

“Will you stop outside the Jernigham Arms for a minute?” asked Alleyn.

Templett did not slow down until they were within two hundred yards of the i

“Is Mr. Fox there? Ask him to come out, will you?” called Alleyn cheerfully. “And when Mr. Bathgate arrives, send him on to the police station at Great Chipping. Ask him to bring my case with him.”

Fox came out, bare-headed.

“Pop in at the back, Brer Fox,” said Alleyn. “We’re going into Great Chipping. Dr. Templett will take us.”

“Good-evening, doctor,” said Fox, and got in.

Dr. Templett put in his clutch and was off before the door shut. Alleyn’s arm hung over the back of the seat. He twiddled his long fingers eloquently.

They reached the outskirts of Great Chipping in ten minutes, and here Templett seemed to come to his senses. He drove reasonably enough through the narrow provincial streets and pulled up at the police station.

Blandish was there. A constable showed them into his office and stood inside the door.

“Good-evening, gentlemen,” said the superintendent, who seemed to be in superb form. “Some good news for me, I hope? Glad to say we’re getting on quite nicely with our little job, Mr. Alleyn. I wouldn’t be surprised if we won’t be able to give the City a bit of very sound information by to-morrow. The bird’s flown to Bermondsey, and we ought to be able to pull him in. Very gratifying. Well, now, sit down, all of you. Smith! The chair by the door.”

He bustled hospitably, caught sight of Templett’s face and was abruptly silent.

“I’ll make a statement,” said Templett.

“I think perhaps I should warn you—” said Alleyn.

“I know all that. I’ll make a statement.”

Fox moved up to the table. Superintendent Blandish, very startled and solemn, shoved across a pad of paper.

ii

“On Friday afternoon,” said Dr. Templett, “on my return from hunting, an anonymous letter came into my possession. I believe the police now have this letter. Inspector Alleyn has shown it to me. I attached very little importance to it. I do not know who wrote it. I put it in my pocket-book in the inside breast pocket of my coat. I intended to destroy it. At five o’clock on Friday I attended a rehearsal at Pen Cuckoo. On my return home I was immediately called out on a difficult case. I did not get back until late night. I forgot all about the letter. Yesterday, Saturday, wearing the same suit, I left my house at about 8.30, having only just got up. I collected some furniture from Duck Cottage, called at Pen Cuckoo, went on to the hall, where I left the furniture. She was with me. The rest of Saturday was spent on my rounds. I was unusually busy. They gave me some lunch at the cottage hospital. In the afternoon I called at the hall. I was there for about half an hour. I did not go near the piano and I didn’t remember the letter. I was not alone at the hall at any time. I arrived there for the evening performance at half-past seven, or possibly later. I went straight to my dressing-room and changed, hanging up my coat on the wall. Henry Jernigham came in and helped me. After the tragedy I did not change until I got home. At no time did I remember the letter. The next time I saw it, was this afternoon when Inspector Alleyn showed it to me. That’s all.”

Fox looked up.

Blandish said, “Make a full transcript of Inspector Fox’s notes, Smith.”

Smith went out with the notes.

Alleyn said, “Before we go any further, Dr. Templett, I think I should tell you that the letter I showed you was a copy of the original and made on identical paper. The original is in our possession and it is in my bag. Fox, do you mind seeing if Bathgate has arrived?”

Fox went out and in a minute returned with Alleyn’s case.

“Have you,” Alleyn asked Templett, “as far as your memory serves, given us the whole truth in the statement you have just made?”

“I’ve given you everything that’s relevant.”

“I am going to put several questions to you. Would you like to wait until your lawyer is present?”

“I don’t want a lawyer. I’m i

“Your answers will be taken down and—”

“And may be used in evidence. I know.”

“—And may be used in evidence,” Alleyn repeated.

“Well?” asked Templett.

“Have you shown the letter to any one else?”

“No.”

“Did you receive it by post?”

“Yes.”

Alleyn nodded to Fox, who opened the case and took out the original letter between its two glass cover-sheets.

“Here it is,” said Alleyn. “You see, we have developed the prints. There are three sets — yours, the deceased’s, and another’s. I must tell you that the unknown prints will be compared with any that we find on the copy which Mrs. Ross has held in her hands. You can see, if you look at the original, that one set of prints is superimposed on the other two. Those are your own. The deceased’s prints are the undermost.”

Templett did not speak.

“Dr. Templett, I am going to tell you what I believe to have happened. I believe that this letter was sent in the first instance to Mrs. Ross. The wording suggests that it was addressed to a woman rather than a man. I believe that Mrs. Ross showed it to you on Saturday, which was yesterday morning, and that you put it in your pocket-book. If this is so, you know as well as I do that you will be ill-advised to deny it. You have told us the letter came by post. Do you now feel it would be better to alter this statement?”

“It makes no difference.”

“It makes all the difference between giving the police facts instead of fiction. If we find what we expect to find from the fingerprints, you will not help matters by adding your misstatement to the one that was made at Duck Cottage.”

Alleyn paused and looked at the undistinguished, dogged face.

“You have had a great shock,” he said, and added in a voice so low that Blandish put his hand to his ear like a deaf rustic: “It’s no good trying to protect people who are ready at any sacrifice of loyalty to protect themselves.”

Templett laughed.

“So it seems,” he said. “All right. That’s how it was. It’s no good denying it.”

“Mrs. Ross gave you the letter on Saturday?”

“I suppose so. Yes.”

“Did you guess at the authorship?”

“I guessed.”

“Did you notice the smell of eucalyptus?”

“Yes. But I’m i

“When you were at the hall with Mrs. Ross, did you not leave her to go down to the auditorium?”

“Why should I?”

“Mrs. Ross told me you shut one of the windows.”

“Yes. I’d forgotten. Yes, I did.”

“But if Mrs. Ross says she had shut the window herself in the morning?”

“I know. We couldn’t make it out.”

“You noticed the open window, shut it, returned to the stage, and lowered the curtain?”

“Did she tell you that!”

Templett suddenly collapsed into the chair behind him and buried his face in his hands. “My God,” he said. “I’ve been a fool. What a fool!”

“They say it happens once to most of us,” said Alleyn unexpectedly and not unkindly. “Did Mrs. Ross not mention at the time that she thought she had already shut the window.”

“Yes, yes, yes. She said so. But the window was open. It was opened about three inches. How can I expect you to believe it? You think I lowered the curtain, went to the piano, and fixed this bloody trap. I tell you I didn’t.”