Overture to Death

“Horrible,” said the rector violently..

“There is one sequence of events about which we can be certain,” said Alleyn. “We know that the first person to arrive was Gladys Wright. We know that she entered the hall at 6.30, and was in front of the curtain down there with her companions until and after the audience came in. We know that it would have been impossible for anybody to come down from the stage into the front of the hall u

“No. No! I am quite certain that I didn’t. You see, my chair faced the exact spot.”

“Yes, therefore we know that unless Mr. Copeland is the guilty person, the safety-catch must have been released during one of his two absences. But Mr. Copeland believed, up to the last moment, that Miss Prentice was to be the pianist. We are satisfied that Mr. Copeland is not the guilty person.”

The rector raised one of his large hands in a gesture that seemed to repudiate his immunity. The squire, Miss Prentice, Mrs. Ross and Templett kept their eyes fixed on Alleyn.

“Knowing the only means by which the safety-catch might be released, it seems evident that Miss Prentice was not the intended victim. Miss Prentice, you are cold. Do you feel a draught?”

Miss Prentice shook her head, but she trembled like a wet dog and looked not unlike one. There was a faint sound of movement behind the scenes. Alleyn went on:

“When you were all crowded round her and she gave in and consented to allow Miss Campanula to play, it would have been easy enough to come up here and put the safety-catch on again. Why run the risk of being arrested for the murder of the wrong person?”

Alleyn’s level voice halted for a moment. He leant forward, and when he spoke again it was with extreme deliberation:

“No! The trap was set for Miss Campanula. It was set before Miss Prentice yielded her right to play, and it was set by someone who knew she would not play. The safety-catch was released at the only moment when the stage was empty. The moment when you were all crowded round the telephone. Then the murderer sat back and waited for the catastrophe to happen. Beyond the curtain at this moment someone is sitting at the piano. In a minute you will hear the opening chords of the “Prelude” as you heard them on Saturday night. If you listen closely you will hear the click of the trigger when the soft pedal goes down. That will represent the report of the automatic. Imagine this guilty person. Imagine someone whose hand stole under the curtain while the hall was crowded and set that trap. Imagine someone who sat, as we sit now, and waited for those three fatal chords.”

Alleyn paused.

As heavy as lead and as loud as ever the dead hand had struck them out, in the empty hall beyond the curtain, thumped the three chords of Miss Campanula’s “Prelude.”

“Pom. Pom. POM!”

And very slowly, in uneven jerks, the curtain began to rise.

As it rose, so did Miss Prentice. She might have been pulled up by an invisible hand in her hair. Her mouth was wide open, but the only sound she made was a sort of retching groan. She did not take her eyes from the rising curtain, but she pointed her hand at the rector and waved it up and down.

“It was for you,” screamed Miss Prentice. “I did it for you!”

And Nigel, seated at the piano, saw Alleyn take her by the arm.

“Eleanor Prentice, I arrest you — ”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Case Ends

i

Henry and Dinah sat by the fire in the rectory study and watched the clock.

“Why does he want us to ring up?” said Dinah for perhaps the sixth time. “I don’t understand.”

“I think I do. I think the telephoning’s only an excuse. He wanted us out of the way.”

“But why?”

Henry put his arm round her shoulders and pressed his cheek against her hair.

“Oh, Dinah,” he said.

“What, darling?”

Dinah looked up. He sat on the arm of her chair and she had to move a little in his embrace before she could see his eyes.

“Henry! What is it?”

“I think we’re in for a bad spin.”

“But — isn’t it Mrs. Ross?”

“I don’t think so.”

Without removing her gaze from his face she took his hand.

“I think it’s Eleanor,” said Henry.

“Eleanor!”

“It’s the only answer. Don’t you see that’s what Alleyn was driving at all the time?”

“But she wanted to play. She made the most frightful scene over not playing.”

“I know. But Templett said two days before that she’d never be able to do it. Don’t you see, she worked it so that we should find her crying and moaning, and insist on her giving up?”

“Suppose we hadn’t insisted.”

“She’d have left the safety-catch on or not used the soft pedal, or perhaps she’d have ‘discovered’ the automatic and accused Miss C. of putting it there. That would have made a glorious scene.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“Can you believe it of any one else?”

“Mrs. Ross,” said Dinah promptly.

“No, darling. I rather think Mrs. Ross has merely tried to blackmail my papa. It is my cousin who is a murderess. Shall you enjoy a husband of whom every one will say: ‘Oh, yes, Henry Jernigham! Wasn’t he the Pen Cuckoo murderess’s nephew or son or something?’”

“I shall love my husband and I shan’t hear what they say. Besides, you don’t know. You’re only guessing.”

“I’m certain of it. There are all sorts of things that begin to fit in. Things that don’t fit any other way. Dinah, I know she’s the one.”

“Anyway, my dear darling, she’s mad.”

“I hope so,” said Henry. “God, it’s awful, isn’t it?”

He sprang up and began to walk nervously up and down.

“I can’t stand this much longer,” said Henry.

“It’s time we rang up.”

“I’ll do it.”

But as he reached the door they heard voices in the hall.

The rector came in, followed by Alleyn and the squire.

“Dinah! Where’s Dinah?” cried the rector.

“Here she is,” said Henry. “Father!”

The squire turned a chalk-white face to his son.

“Come here, old boy,” he said. “I want you.”

“That chair,” said Alleyn quickly.

Henry and Alleyn put the squire in the chair.

“Brandy, Dinah,” said the rector. “He’s fainted.”

“No, I haven’t,” said Jocelyn. “Henry, old boy, I’d better tell you — ”

“I know,” said Henry. “It’s Eleanor.”

Alleyn moved back to the door and watched them. He was now a detached figure. The arrest came like a wall of glass between himself and the little group that hovered round Jocelyn. He knew that most of his colleagues accepted these moments of isolation. Perhaps they were scarcely aware of them. But, for himself, he always felt a little like a sort of Mephistophelcs, who looked on at his own handiwork. He didn’t enjoy the sensation. It was the one moment when his sense of detachment deserted him. Now, as they remembered him, he saw in the faces turned towards him the familiar guarded antagonism of herded animals.

He said, “If Mr. Jernigham would like to see Miss Prentice, it shall be arranged. Superintendent Blandish will be in charge.”

He bowed, and was going when Jocelyn said loudly:

“Wait a minute.”

“Yes, sir?” Alleyn moved quickly to the chair. The squire looked up at him.

“I know you tried to prepare me for this,” he said. “You guessed that woman had told me. I couldn’t admit that until — until it was all up — I wouldn’t admit it. You understand that?”