Overture to Death

“Where did you stand?”

“Up top by the stage, ushering the two shillingses.”

“So if anybody had come down to the piano from the stage you would have seen them?”

“Nobody came down. Not ever. I’d take another Bible oath on that,” said Miss Wright, with considerable emphasis.

“Thank you,” said Alleyn. “That’s splendid. One other question. You were at the Reading Circle meeting at the rectory on Friday night. Did you go home by the gate into the wood. The gate that squeaks?”

“Oo no! None of us girls goes that way at night.” Miss Wright giggled, extensively. “It’s too spooky. Oo, I wouldn’t go that way for anything. The others, they all went together, and my young gentleman, he took me home by lane.”

“So you’re sure nobody used the gate?”

“Yass, for sure. They’d all gone,” said Miss Wright, turning scarlet, “before us. And we used lane.”

“You passed the hall, then. Were there any lights in the hall?”

“Not in front.”

“You couldn’t see the back windows, of course. Thank you so much, Miss Wright. We’ll get you to sign a transcript of everything you have told us. Read it through carefully, first. If you wouldn’t mind waiting in the outer office I think I can arrange for you to be driven home.”

“Oo well, thanks ever so,” said Miss Wright, and went out.

ii

Alleyn looked at Templett.

“I ought to apologise,” he said, “I’ve given you a damned bad hour.”

“I don’t know why you didn’t arrest me,” said Templett with a shaky laugh. “Ever since I realised I’d left that bloody note in the dressing-room I’ve been trying to think how I could prove I hadn’t rigged the automatic. There seemed to be no possible proof. Even now I don’t see— Oh, well, it doesn’t matter. Nothing much matters. If you don’t mind, I’ll wait outside in the car. I’d like a breath of fresh air.”

“Certainly.”

Dr. Templett nodded to Blandish and went out.

“Will I shadow the man?” asked Roper, earnestly.

Blandish’s reply was unprintable.

“You might ask Mr. Bathgate to drive your witness home, Roper,” said Alleyn. “Let her sign her statement first. Tell Mr. Bathgate I’m returning with Dr. Templett. And Roper, as tactfully as you can, just see how Dr. Templett’s getting on. He’s had a shock.”

“Yes, sir.”

Roper went out.

“He’s got about as much tact as a cow,” said Blandish.

“I know, but at least he’ll keep an eye on Templett.”

“The lady let him down, did she?”

“With a thump that shook the crockery.”

“S-s-s-s!” said Blandish appreciatively. “Is that a fact?”

“He’s had two narrow escapes,” said Fox, “and that’s a fact. The lady’s let him down with a jerk and he’s lucky the hangman won’t follow suit.”

“Fox,” said Alleyn, “you have the wit of a Tyburn broadsheet, but there’s matter in it.”

“I don’t know where I am,” said Blandish. “Are we any nearer to an arrest?”

“A good step,” said Alleyn. “The pattern emerges.”

“What does that mean, Mr. Alleyn?”

“Well,” said Alleyn, apologetically, “I mean all these mad little things like the box, and the broken telephone, and the creaking gate — I’m not so sure of the onion—”

“The onion!” cried Fox, triumphantly. “I know all about the onion, Mr. Alleyn. Georgie Biggins is responsible for that, the young limb. I saw him this afternoon and asked him, as well as every other youngster in the village, about the box. He’s going round as pleased as punch, letting on he’s working at the case with the Yard. Answers me as cool as you please, and when I’m going he says, ‘Did you find an onion in the teapot, mister?’ Well, it seems that they had a tea-party on the stage, with Miss Prentice and Miss Campanula quarrelling about which should pour out. If the young devil didn’t go and put an onion in the pot. It seems they each had to take the lid off and look in the pot and this was another of George’s bright ideas. I suppose someone found it in time and threw it into the box on the floor, where you picked it up.”

“Dear little Georgie,” said Alleyn. “Dear little boy! We’ve had red herrings before now, Fox, but never a Spanish onion. Well, as I was saying, all these mad little things begin to bear some sort of relationship.”

“That’s nice, Mr. Alleyn,” said Fox, woodenly. “You’re going to tell us you know who did it, I suppose?”

“Oh, yes,” said Alleyn looking at him in genuine surprise. “I do now, Brer Fox. Don’t you?”

iii

When a man learns that his mistress, faced with putting herself in a compromising position, will quite literally see him hanged first, he is not inclined for conversation. Templett drove slowly back towards Chipping and was completely silent until the first cottage came into view. Then he said, “I don’t see how any one could have done it. The piano was safe at six-thirty. The girl used the soft pedal. It was safe.”

“Yes,” agreed Alleyn.

“I suppose, putting the pedal down softly, the pressure wasn’t enough to pull the trigger?”

“It’s a remarkably light pull,” said Alleyn. “I’ve tried.”

Templett brushed his hand across his eyes. “I suppose my brain won’t work.”

“Give the thing a rest.”

“But how could anybody fix that contraption inside the piano after half-past six when those girls were skylarking about in the front of the house? It’s impossible.”

“If you come down to the hall to-morrow night, I’ll show you.”

“All right. Here’s your pub. What time’s the inquest? I’ve forgotten. I’m all to pieces.” He pulled up the car.

“Eleven o’clock to-morrow.”

Alleyn and Fox got out. It was a cold windy evening. The fine weather had broken again and it had begun to rain. Alleyn stood with the door open and looked at Templett. He leaned heavily on the wheel and stared with blank eyes at the windscreen.

“The process of convalescence,” said Alleyn, “should follow the initial shock. Take heart of grace, you will recover.”

“I’ll go home,” said Templett. “Good-night.”

“Good-night.”

He drove away.

They went upstairs to their rooms.

“Let’s swap stories, Brer Fox,” said Alleyn. “I’ll lay my case, for what it’s worth, on the dressing-table. I want a shave. You can open your little heart while I’m having it. I don’t think we’ll unburden ourselves to Bathgate just yet.”

They brought each other up-to-date before they went downstairs again in search of a drink.

They found Nigel alone in the bar parlour.

“I’m not going to pay for so much as half a drink and I intend to drink a very great deal. I’ve had the dullest afternoon of my life and all for your benefit. Miss Wright smells. When I took her to her blasted cottage she made me go in to tea with her brother who turns out to be the village idiot. Yes, and on the way back from Duck Cottage, your lovely car sprang a puncture. Furthermore — ”

“Joe!” shouted Alleyn. “Three whiskies-and-sodas.”

“I should damn well think so. What are you ordering for yourselves?”

Nigel calmed down presently and listened to Alleyn’s account of the afternoon. Mrs. Peach, a large flowing woman, told them she had proper juicy steak for their di

“Not so many places left like this,” said Fox. “Cosy, isn’t it? I haven’t seen one of those paraffin lamps for many a long day. Mrs. Peach says old Mr. Peach, her father-in-law, you know, won’t have electricity in the house. He’s given in as far as the tap-room’s concerned but nowhere else. Listen to the rain! It’ll be a wild night again.”

“Yes,” said Alleyn. “It’s strange, isn’t it, to think of the actors in this silly far-fetched crime, all sitting over their fires, as we are now, six of them wondering what the answer is, and the seventh nursing it secretly in what used to be known as a guilty heart.”