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“Is it?” Fox asked stolidly.
“My dear old chap, of course it is. Nip back to the coach-house ünd tell Bailey and Thompson to move in here as soon as they’re ready and do their stuff.” Fox went sedately off and Alleyn shut the door of the bedroom behind him. “We’ll have this room sealed, Carey. And will you check up on the slasher story? Find out who spoke to the boy. And, Carey, I’ll leave you in charge down here for the time being. Do you mind?”
Superintendent Carey, slightly bewildered by this mode of approach, said that he didn’t.
“Right. Come on.”
He led the way outside, where Dr. Otterly waited in his car.
Carey, hanging off and on, said, “Will I seal the room now, sir? Or what?”
“Let the flash and dabs chaps in first. Fox is fixing them. Listen as inconspicuously as you can to the elder Andersen boys’ general conversation. How old is Dan, by the way? Sixty, did you say?”
“Turned sixty, I reckon.”
“And Ernie?”
“He came far in the rear, which may account for him being not right smart.”
“He’s smart enough,” Alleyn muttered, “in a way. Believe me, he’s only dumb nor’-nor’-west and yesterday, I fancy, the wind was in the south.”
“It shifted in the night,” Carey said and stared at him. “Look, Mr. Alleyn,” he burst out, “I can’t help but ask. Do you reckon Ernie Andersen’s our chap?”
“My dear man, I don’t know. I think his brothers are determined to stop him talking. So’s this man Begg, by the way. I could cheerfully have knocked Begg’s gri
“Suppose,” Carey said, “Ernie lost his temper with the old chap, and gave a kind of swipe, or suppose he was just fooling with that murderous sharp whiffler of his and — and — well, without us noticing while the Guiser was laying doggo behind the stone — Ar, hell!”
“Yes,” Alleyn said grimly, “and it’ll turn out that the only time Ernie might have waltzed round behind the stone was the time when young Stayne had pinched his sword. And what about the state of the sword, Carey? Nobody had time to clean it and restain it with green sap, had they? And, my dear man, what about blood? Blood, Carey — which reminds me, we are keeping the doctor waiting. Leave Bailey and Thompson here while you arrange with Obby or that P.C. by the castle gates to take your place when you want to get off. I’ll bring extra men in if we need them. I’ll leave you the car and ask Dr. Otterly to take us up to the pub. O.K.?”
“O.K., Mr. Alleyn. I’ll be up along later, then?”
“Right. Here’s Fox. Come on, Foxkin. Otterly, will you give us a lift?”
Carey turned back into the forge and Alleyn and Fox got into Dr. Otterly’s car.
Dr. Otterly said, “Look here, Alleyn, before we go on I want to ask you something.”
“I bet I know what it is. Do we or do we not include you in our list of suspects?”
“Exactly so,” Otterly said rather stuffily. “After all, one would prefer to know. Um?”
“Of course. Well, at the moment, unless you can explain how you fiddled unceasingly in full view of a Superintendent of Police, a P.C., a Dame of the British Empire, a parson and about fifty other witnesses during the whole of the period when this job must have been done and, at the same time, did it, you don’t look to be a likely starter.”
“Thank you,” said Dr. Otterly.
“On the other hand, you look to be a damn’ good witness. Did you watch the dancers throughout?”
“Never took my eyes off ’em. A conscientious fiddler doesn’t.”
“Wonderful. Don’t let’s drive up for a moment, shall we? Tell me this. Would you swear that it was in fact the Guiser who danced the role of Fool?”
Dr. Otterly stared at him. “Good Lord, of course it was! I thought you understood. I’d gone out to start proceedings, I heard the rumpus, I went back and found him lugging his clothes off Ernie. I had a look at him, not a proper medical look, because he wouldn’t let me, and I told him if he worked himself up any more he’d probably crock up anyway. So he calmed down, put on the Fool’s clothes and the bag-mask, and, when he was ready, I went out. Ernie followed and did his whiffling. I could see the others waiting to come on. The old man appeared last, certainly, but I could see him just beyond the gate, watching the others. He’d taken his mask off and only put it on at the last moment.”
“Nobody, at any stage, could have taken his place?”
“Utterly impossible,” Otterly said impatiently.
“At no time could he have gone offstage and swapped with somebody?”
“Lord, Lord, Lord, how many more times! No!”
“All right. So he danced and lay down behind the stone. You fiddled and watched and fiddled and watched. Stayne and Ernie fooled and Stayne collared Ernie’s sword. Begg, as the Hobby-Horse, retired. These three throughout the show were all over the place and dodged in and out of the rear archway. Do you know exactly when and for how long any of them was out of sight?”
“I do not. I doubt if they do. Begg dodged out after his first appearance when he chivvied the girls, you know. It’s damn’ heavy, that gear he wears, and he took the chance, during the first sword-dance, to get the weight off his shoulders. He came back before they made the lock. He had another let-up after the ‘death.’ Ralph Stayne was all over the shop. In and out. So was Ernie during their interlude.”
“Right. And at some stage Stayne returned the sword to Ernie. Dan did a solo. The Sons danced and then came the denouement. Right?”
“It hasn’t altered,” Dr. Otterly said drily, “since the last time you asked.”
“It’s got to alter sometime, somehow,” Fox observed unexpectedly.
“Would you also swear,” Alleyn said, “that at no time did either Ernie or Ralph Stayne prance round behind the stone and make one more great swipe with the sword that might have done the job?”
“I know damn’ well neither of them did.”
“Yes? Why?”
“Because, my dear man, as I’ve told you, I never took my eyes off them. I knew the old chap was lying there. I’d have thought it a bloody dangerous thing to do.”
“Is there still another reason why it didn’t happen that way?”
“Isn’t it obvious that there is?”
“Yes,” Alleyn said, “I’d have thought it was. If anybody had killed in that way he’d have been smothered in blood?”
“Exactly.”
“But, all the same, Otterly, there could be one explanation that would cover that difficulty.”
Dr. Otterly slewed round in his seat and stared at Alleyn. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, you’re right. I’d thought of it, of course. But I’d still swear that neither of them did.”
“All the same it is, essentially, I’m sure, the explanation nearest to the truth.”
“And, in the meantime,” Mr. Fox observed, “we still go on believing in fairies.”