Overture to Death

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Final Vignettes

i

The express from London roared into Great Chipping station. Alleyn, who had been reading the future in the murky window pane, rose hurriedly and put on his overcoat.

Fox was on the platform.

“Well, Brer Fox?” said Alleyn when they reached the Biggins’s Ford.

“Well, sir, the Yard car’s arrived. They’re to drive up quietly after we’ve all assembled. Alison can come into the supper-room with his two men and I’ll wait inside the front door.”

“That’ll be all right. I’d better give you all a cue to stand by, as Miss Copeland would say. Let’s see. I’ll ask Miss Prentice if she’s feeling the draught. We’ll sit on the stage round that table so there’ll probably be a hell of a draught. How did you get on at Pen Cuckoo?”

“She was there.”

“Not?”

“Ross or Rosen. You had a lucky strike there, Mr. Alleyn. Fancy her being Claude Smith’s girl. We were on the Quantock case at that time, weren’t we?”

“We weren’t at the Yard, anyway. I’ve never seen her before this.”

“More’ve I. Well, she was there. Something up — between him and her — I should say.”

“Between who and her, Mr. Fox?” asked Nigel. “You’re very dark and cryptic this evening.”

“Between Jernigham senior and Mrs. Ross, Mr. Bathgate. When I arrived he was looking peculiar, and Mr. Henry seemed as if he thought something was up. She was cool enough, but I’d say the other lady was a case for expert opinion.”

“Miss Prentice?” murmured Alleyn.

“That’s right, sir. Young Jernigham went and fetched her. She owned up to opening the window as sweet as you please, and then began to talk a lot of nonsense about letting in the unpardonable sin. I took it all down, but you’d be surprised how silly it was.”

“The unpardonable sin? Which one’s that, I wonder?”

“Nobody owned to the onion,” said Fox gloomily.

“I think onions, in any form, the unpardonable sin,” said Nigel.

“I reckon you’re right about the onion, Mr. Alleyn.”

“I think so, Fox. After all, on finding onions in teapots, why not exclaim on the circumstance? Why not say, ‘Georgie Biggins for a certainty,’ and raise hell?”

“That’s right, sir. Well, from the way they shaped up to the question, you’d say none of them had ever smelt one. Mr. Jernigham’s talking about getting a doctor in. Do you know what? I think he’s sweet on her. On Rosen, I mean.”

Fox changed into second gear for Chipping Rise and said, “The telephone’s right. I told you that when I rang up, didn’t I?”

“Yes.”

“And I’ve seen the four girls who helped Gladys Wright. Three of them are ready to swear on oath that nobody came down into the hall from the stage, and the fourth is certain nobody did, but wouldn’t swear, as she went into the porch for a minute. I’ve re-checked the movements of all the people behind the scenes. Mr. Copeland sat facing the footlights from the time he got there until he went in to Mr. Jernigham’s room, when they tried to telephone to Mrs. Ross. He went back to the stage and didn’t leave it again until they all crowded round Miss Prentice.”

“I think it’s good enough, Fox.”

“I think so, too. This Chief Constable business is awkward, isn’t it, Mr. Alleyn?”

“It is, indeed. I know of no precedent. Oh, well, we’ll see what the preliminary interview does. You arranged that?”

“Yes, sir, that’s all right. Did you dine on the train?”

“Yes, Fox. The usual dead fish and so on. Mr. Bathgate wants to know who did the murder.”

“I do know,” said Nigel in the back seat; “but I won’t let on.”

“D’you want to stop at the pub, Mr. Alleyn?”

“No. Let’s get it over, Brer Fox, let’s get it over.”

ii

At Henry’s suggestion, they had invited Dinah and the rector to di

“You may as well take Dinah and me for granted, father. We’re not going to give each other up, you know.”

“I still think — however!”

And Henry, watching his father, knew that the afternoon visit of Miss Campanula’s lawyers to the rectory was Vale property. Jocelyn boggled and uttered inarticulate noises; but already, Henry thought, his father was putting a new roof on Winton. It would be better not to speak, thought Henry, of his telephone conversation with Dinah after Fox had gone. For Dinah had told Henry that her father felt he could not accept the fortune left him by Idris Campanula.

Henry said, “I don’t suppose you suspect either the rector or Dinah, do you, even though they do get the money? They don’t suspect us. Cousin Eleanor, who suspects God knows who, is in her room and won’t appear until di

“She ought not to be alone.”

“One of the maids is with her. She’s quietened down again and is quite normally long-suffering and martyred.”

Jocelyn looked nervously at Henry.

“What do you think’s the matter with her?”

“Gone ravers,” said Henry cheerfully.

The Copelands accepted the invitation to di

“Darling Dinah,” said Henry, “there are at least fifty things of the most terrific importance to say to you, and when I look at you I can’t think of one of them. May I kiss you? We’re almost publicly betrothed, aren’t we?”

“Are we? You’ve never really asked for my hand.”

“Miss Copeland — may I call you Dinah? — be mine. Be mine.”

“I may not deny, Mr. Jernigham, that my sensibilities; nay, since I will not dissemble, my affections are touched by this declaration. I ca

Henry kissed her and muttered in her ear that he loved her very much.

“All the same,” said Dinah, “I do wonder why Mr. Alleyn wants us to go down to the hall to-night. I don’t want to go. The place gives me the absolute horrors.”

“Me, too. Dinah, I made such a fool of myself last night.”

He told her how he had heard the three chords of the “Prelude” as he came through the storm.

“I would have died of it,” said Dinah. “Henry, why do they want us to-night? Are they — are they going to arrest someone?”

“Who?” asked Henry.

They stared solemnly at each other.

“Who indeed,” said Dinah.

iii

“I tell you, Copeland, I’m pretty hard hit,” said the squire, giving himself a whisky-and-soda. “It’s so beastly uncomfortable. Have some more sherry? Nonsense, it’ll do you good. You’re not looking particularly happy yourself.”

“It’s the most dreadful thing that has ever happened to any of us,” said the rector. “How’s Miss Prentice?”

“That’s partly what I want to talk about. I ought to warn you — ”

The rector listened with a steadily blanching face to Jocelyn’s account of Miss Prentice.

“Poor soul,” he said, “poor soul.”

“Yes, I know, but it’s damned inconvenient. I’m sorry, rector, but it — well, it’s — it’s — Oh, God!”

“Would you like to tell me?” asked the rector, and if he spoke at all wearily Jocelyn did not notice it

“No,” said Jocelyn, “no. There’s nothing to tell. I’m simply rather worried. What d’you suppose is the meaning of this meeting to-night?”

The rector looked curiously at him.

“I thought you probably knew. Your position, I mean — ”

“As the weapon happens to be my property, I felt it better to keep right out of the picture. Technically, I’m a suspect.”

“Yes. Dear me, yes.” The rector sipped his sherry. “So are we all, of course.”

“I wonder,” said the squire, “what Alleyn is up to.”

“You don’t think he’s going to — to arrest anybody?”

They stared at each other.

“Di

iv

“Good-night, dear,” said Dr. Templett to his wife. “I expect you’ll be asleep when I get home. I’m glad it’s been a good day.”