Overture to Death

“That’s not u

“I pity the protector,” said Henry. “Well, I suppose I’d better see if she’ll come down.”

“If you wouldn’t mind, sir,” said Fox comfortably.

In some trepidation, Henry mounted the stairs and tapped on Miss Prentice’s door. There was no answer. He tapped again. The door opened suddenly and Miss Prentice was revealed with her fingers to her lips, like some mysterious bucktoothed sybil.

“What’s happened?” she whispered.

“Nothing’s happened, Cousin Eleanor. It’s simply one of the men from Scotland Yard with a rather childish question to ask you.”

“Is that woman there? I won’t meet that woman.”

“Mrs. Ross has gone.”

“Henry, is that true?”

“Of course it’s true.”

“Now I’ve made you angry again. You’re very unkind to me, Henry.”

“My dear Cousin Eleanor!”

Her hand moved restlessly across the bosom of her dress.

“Yes, you are. So unkind. And I’m so fond of you. It’s only for your own good. You’re young and strong and handsome. All the Jernighams are very strong and beautiful. Don’t listen to women like that, Henry. Don’t listen to any woman. They’ll do you harm. Except dear Dinah.”

“Will you come down and speak to Inspector Fox?”

“It’s not a trap to make me meet that woman? Why is it a different man? Fox? Where’s the other man? He was a gentleman. So tall! Taller than Father Copeland.”

He saw with astonishment that the movement of her hand traced a definite pattern on her bosom. She was crossing herself.

“This man is perfectly harmless,” said Henry. “Do come.”

“Very well. My head’s splitting. I suppose I must come.”

“That’s better,” said Henry. He added awkwardly: “Cousin Eleanor, your dress is undone.”

“Oh!” She blushed crimson and, to his horror, laughed shrilly and turned aside her head. Her fingers fumbled with the fastening of her dress. Then she shrank past him and, with a kind of coquettishness in her gait, hurried downstairs.

Henry followed with a sinking heart and escorted her to the study. His father had returned and stood before the fire. Jocelyn glared uncomfortably at Miss Prentice.

“Hullo, Eleanor, here you are. This is Inspector Fox.”

Miss Prentice offered her hand and, as soon as Fox touched it, snatched it away. Her eyes were downcast, her hands pleated a fold in her dress. Fox looked calmly at her.

“I’m sorry to trouble you, Miss Prentice. I only wanted to ask if you opened one of the hall windows as you left at noon on Saturday.”

“Oh, yes,” she whispered. “Was that the unpardonable sin?”

“I beg your pardon, miss?”

“Did I let it in?”

“Let what in, Miss Prentice?”

“You know. But I only opened it the least little bit. A tiny crack. Of course it can make itself very small, can’t it?”

Fox adjusted his spectacles and made a note.

“You did open the window?” he said.

“You shouldn’t keep on asking. You know I did.”

“Miss Prentice, did you find anything in the teapot you were to use on the stage?”

“Is that where it hid?”

“Where what hid?”

“The unpardonable sin. You know. The thing she did!”

“You’re talking nonsense, Eleanor,” said Jocelyn. He got behind her and made violent grimaces at Fox.

“I’m sorry if I irritate you, Jocelyn.”

“You don’t know anything about an onion that a small boy put in the teapot, Miss Prentice?”

She opened her eyes very wide and shaped her mouth like an O. Then she slowly shook her head. Once started, she seemed unable to leave off shaking her head, but went on and on until the movement lost all meaning.

“Well,” said Fox, “I think that’s all I need trouble you about, thank you, Miss Prentice.”

“Henry,” said Jocelyn. “See your cousin upstairs.”

She went without another word. Henry hurried after her. Jocelyn turned to Fox.

“See how it is!” he said. “The shock sent her out of her mind. There are no two ways about it. See for yourself. Have to get a specialist. Better not believe a word she says.”

“She’s never been like this before, sir?”

“Good God, no.”

“That’s very distressing, sir, isn’t it? The chief inspector asked me to speak to you, sir, about this evening. He thinks it would be a good idea to see, at the same time, all the people who were in the play, and he wonders if you would be good enough to send your party down to the hall.”

“I must say I don’t quite see— As a matter of fact, I’ve asked the Copelands for di

“That will fit in very nicely, then, won’t it, sir? You can come on to the hall.”

“Yes, but I don’t see what good it’ll do.”

“The chief inspector will explain when he comes, sir. He asked me to say he’d be very much obliged if you would give the lead in this little matter. In view of your position in the county, sir, he thought you would prefer to come before the others. You’ve two cars, haven’t you, sir?”

“I suppose I’d better.” Jocelyn stared very hard at a portrait of his actress-ancestress and said, “Have you got any idea who it is?”

“I couldn’t say what the chief intends just at the moment, sir,” answered Fox so blandly that the evasion sounded exactly like a direct answer. “No doubt he will report to you himself, sir. Would nine o’clock suit you at the hall, Mr. Jernigham?”

“What? Oh, yes. Yes, certainly.”

“I’m much obliged, sir. I’ll say good-afternoon.”

“Good-afternoon,” said Jocelyn restlessly.

vi

“This is Miss Bruce,” said the supervisor. “She was on duty on Friday night, but I doubt if she’ll be able to help you.”

Fox looked placidly at Miss Bruce and noted that she seemed a bright young person.

He said, “Well, Miss Bruce, we’ll be very pleased if you can put us right in this little matter. I understand you were on duty as an operator at ten o’clock on Friday evening.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Yes. Now the call we’re interested in came through somewhere round about 10.30. It was to the rectory, Winton St. Giles. It’s a party line with the old manual telephones and a long extension. Not many of those left, are there?”

“They’ll be gone by this time next year,” said the supervisor.

“Is that a fact?” said Fox comfortably. “Well, well. Now, Miss Bruce, can you help us?”

“I don’t remember any calls on the rectory phone on Friday night,” said Miss Bruce. “Chipping 10, the number is. I’m in the Y.P.F.C, so I know. We always have to ring a long time there, because the old housemaid Mary’s a bit deaf, and Miss Dinah’s room’s away upstairs, and the rector never answers until he’s fetched. It’s a line that’s used a lot, of course.”

“It would be.”

“Yes. Friday was Reading Circle night, and they’re usually over at the hall, so everybody knows not to ring up on Friday, see, because they won’t be in. Actually, last Friday it was at the rectory because of the play; but people wouldn’t know that, see. They’d think: ‘Well, Friday. It’s no use ringing on Friday.’ ”

“So you’re sure nobody rang?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m sure of it. I’d swear to it if that’s what’s wanted.”

“If the extension was used you wouldn’t know, I suppose?”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“No,” agreed Fox. “Well, thank you very much, miss. I’m greatly obliged. Good-afternoon.”

“Pleasure, I’m sure,” said Miss Bruce. “Ta-ta.”