Overture to Death

“It’s been a splendid day,” said the steadfastly gallant voice. “Good-night, my dear.”

Templett shut the door softly. The telephone pealed in his dressing-room at the end of the landing. The hospital was to ring before eight. He went to his dressing-room and lifted the receiver.

“Hullo?”

“Is that you, Billy?”

He sat frozen, the receiver still at his ear.

“Billy? Hullo? Hullo?”

“Well?” said Dr. Templett.

“Then you are alive,” said the voice.

“I haven’t been arrested, after all.”

“Nor, strangely enough, have I, in spite of the fact that I’ve been to Alleyn and taken the whole responsibility of the letter — ”

“Selia! Not on the telephone!”

“I don’t much care what happens to me now. You’ve let me down. Nothing else matters.”

“What do you mean? No, don’t tell me! It’s not true.”

“Very well. Good-bye, Billy.”

“Wait! Have you been told to parade at the hall this evening?”

“Yes. Have you?”

“Yes.” Dr. Templett brushed his hand across his eyes. He muttered hurriedly: “I’ll call for you.”

“What?”

“If you like I’ll drive you there.”

“I’ve got my own car. You needn’t bother.”

“I’ll pick you up at nine.”

“And drop me a few minutes later, I suppose?”

“That’s not quite fair. What do you suppose I thought when—?”

“You obviously don’t trust me. That’s all.”

“My God—!” began Dr. Templett. The voice cut in coolly:

“All right. At nine. Why do you suppose he wants us in the hall? Is he going to arrest someone?”

“I don’t know. What do you think?”

“I don’t know.”

v

The church clock struck nine as the police car drew up outside the hall. Alleyn and Fox got out, followed by Detective-Sergeant Alison and two plain-clothes men. At the same moment, Nigel drove up in his own car with Sergeant Roper. They all went in through the back door. Alleyn switched on the stage lights and the supper-room light.

“You see the lie of the land, don’t you,” he said. “Two flights of steps from the supper-room to the stage. We’ll have the curtain down, I think, Fox. You can stay on the stage. So can you, Bathgate, in the wings, and with not a word out of you. You know when to go down and what to do?”

“Yes,” said Nigel nervously.

“Good. Alison, you’d better move to the front door, and you others can go into the dressing-rooms. They’ll come straight through the supper-room and won’t see you. Roper, you’re to go outside and direct them to the back door. Then come in. But quietly, if you don’t want me to tear your buttons off and half-kill you. The rest of you can stay in the dressing-rooms until the company’s complete. When it is complete, I’ll slam both doors at the top of the steps. You can then come into the supper-room and sit on the steps. The piano’s in position, isn’t it, Fox? And the screens? Yes. All right, down with the curtain.”

The curtain came down in three noisy rushes, releasing a cloud of dust.

With the front of the hall shut out, the stage presented a more authentic appearance. Dinah’s box set, patched and contrived though it was, resembled any touring company’s stock scenery, while Mrs. Ross’s chairs and ornaments raised the interior to still greater distinction. The improvised lights shone bravely enough on chintz and china. The stage had taken on a sort of eerie half-life and an air of expectancy. On the round table Alleyn laid the anonymous letter, the “Prelude in C Minor,” the “Venetian Suite,” the pieces of rubber in their box, the onion, the soap-box and the teapot. He then covered this curious collection with a cloth.

Fox and Alison brought extra chairs from the dressing-rooms and put one of the paraffin lamps on the stage.

“Eight chairs,” counted Alleyn. “That’s right. Are we ready? I think so.”

“Nothing else, sir?”

“Nothing. Remember your cue. Leave on the supper-room lights. Here he comes, I think. Away you go.”

Fox walked over to the prompt corner. Nigel went through the opposite door and sat out of sight in the shadow of the proscenium. Alison went down to the auditorium, the two plain-clothes men disappeared into the dressing-rooms, and Roper, breathing stertorously, made for the back door.

“Shock tactics,” muttered Alleyn. “Damn, I hate ’em. So infernally unfair, and they look like pure exhibitionism on the part of the police. Oh, well, can’t be helped.”

“I don’t hear a car,” whispered Nigel.

“It’s coming.”

They all listened. The wind howled and the rain drummed on the shutters.

“I’ll never think of this place,” said Nigel, “without hearing that noise.”

“It’s worse than ever,” said Fox.

“Here he is,” said Alleyn.

And now they all heard the car draw up in the lane. A door slammed. Boots crunched up the gravel path. Roper’s voice could be heard. The back door opened. Roper, suddenly transformed into a sort of major-domo, said loudly:

“Mr. Jernigham senior, sir.”

And the squire walked in.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Miss Prentice Feels the Draught

i

“— So you see,” said Alleyn, “I was led to wonder if, to speak frankly, the object of her visit was blackmail.”

The squire’s face was drained of all its normal colour, but now it flushed a painful crimson.

“I ca

“In view of the record — ”

The squire made a violent, clumsy gesture with his right hand. Standing in the centre of the stage under those uncompromising lights, he looked at once frightened and defiant. Alleyn watched him for a moment and then he said:

“You see, I think I know what she had to say to you.”

Jernigham’s jaw dropped.

“I don’t believe you,” he said hoarsely.

“Then let me tell what I believe to be her hold on you.”

Alleyn’s voice went on and on, quietly, dispassionately. Jernigham listened with his gaze on the floor. Once he looked up as though he would interrupt, but he seemed to think better of this impulse and fell to biting his nails.

“I give you this opportunity,” said Alleyn. “If you care to tell me now — ”

“There is nothing to tell you. It’s not true.”

“Mrs. Ross did not come this afternoon with this story. She did not make these very definite terms with you?”

“I ca

“Even,” said Alleyn, “in view of this record?”

“I admit nothing.”

“Very well. I was afraid you would take this line.”

“In my position — ”

“It was because of your position I gave you this opportunity. I can do no more.”

“I can’t see why you want this general interview.”

“Shock tactics, sir,” said Alleyn.

“I–I don’t approve.”

“If you wish, sir, I can hand my report in and you may make a formal complaint at the Yard.”

“No.”

“It would make no difference,” said Âlleyn. “I think the others have arrived. This is your last word?”

“I have nothing to say.”

“Very well, sir.”

Roper tapped at one of the supper-room doors.

“Hullo!” shouted Alleyn.

“Here they be, sir, every living soul, and all come together.”

“All right, Roper. Show them in.”

ii

Miss Prentice came in first, followed by Dinah, the rector and Henry. Alleyn asked Miss Prentice to sit in the most comfortable chair, which he had placed on the prompt side of the table. When she dithered, he was so crisply polite that she was there before she realised it. She looked quickly towards the rector, who took the chair on her right. Dinah sat on her father’s right with Henry beside her. The squire looked furtively at Alleyn.

“Will you sit down, sir?” invited Alleyn.

“What! Yes, yes,” said the squire convulsively, and sat beside Henry.

Mrs. Ross came in. She was dressed in black and silver, a strangely exotic figure in those surroundings. She said: “Good-evening,” with her customary side-long smile, bowed rather more pointedly to Alleyn, and sat beside the squire. Templett, seeming ill at ease and shame-faced, followed her.