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“Do you know who?”
“I’ve forgotten. Monty will know. So will Ned Hanley.”
“Was it a serious condition, did you gather?”
“She was told to — to slow down. Not get overexcited. That sort of thing.” He looked at them with what seemed to be apprehension.
“Should I see her?” he mumbled.
“No,” they both said quickly. He breathed out a sigh.
“I can’t get hold of this,” he said and shook his head slowly. “I can’t get hold of it at all. I can’t sort of seem to believe it.”
“The best thing you can do,” said Dr. Carmichael, “is to take this tablet and settle down. There’s absolutely nothing else you can do.”
“Oh. Oh, I see. Well: all right, then,” he replied with a strange air of speaking at random. “But I’ll put myself to bed, if you don’t mind.”
He took the tablet, drank the water and leaned back, staring in front of him. “Extraordinary!” he said and closed his eyes.
Alleyn and Carmichael waited for a minute or two. Rupert opened his eyes and turned off the bedside lamp. Disconcerted, they moved to the door.
“Thank you,” said Rupert in the dark. “Goodnight.”
When they were in the passage Carmichael said: “That was a very odd little conversation.”
“It was, rather.”
“You’d have almost said — well — I mean—”
“What?”
“That he was relieved. Don’t get me wrong. He’s had a shock — I mean that extraordinary apology for his opera, which I must say I didn’t find very impressive, and his faint. His pulse is still a bit erratic. But the reaction,” Carmichael repeated, “was odd, didn’t you think?”
“People do tend to behave oddly when they hear of death. I’m sure you’ve found that, haven’t you? In this case I rather think there has actually been a sense of release.”
“A release? From what?”
“Oh,” said Alleyn, “from a tricky situation. From extreme anxiety. High tension. Didn’t somebody say — was it Shaw? — that after the death of even one’s closest and dearest, there is always a sensation of release. And relief.”
Carmichael made the noise that is written “Humph.” He gave Alleyn a speculative look. “You didn’t,” he said, “tell him it was murder.”
“No. Time enough in the morning. He may as well enjoy the benefit of the Lattienzo pill.”
Dr. Carmichael said “Humph” again.
Alleyn returned to Troy, who had the camera, brush, and talc powder ready for him.
“How is that boy?” she asked. “How has he taken it?”
“On the whole, very well. Remarkably well.”
“Perhaps he’s run out of emotional reactions,” said Troy. “He’s been fully extended in that department.”
“Perhaps he has. You’re the wisest of downy owls and had better go to roost. I’m off, and it looks like being one of those nights.”
“Oh, for Br’er Fox and Thompson and Bailey?”
“You can say that again. And oh, for you to be in your London nest thirteen thousand miles away, which sounds like the burden of a ballad,” said Alleyn. “But as you’re here, you’d better turn the key in your lock when you go to bed.”
“Me!” said Troy incredulously. “Why?”
“So that I’ll be obliged to wake you up,” said Alleyn and left her.
He asked Bert to continue his vigil.
Dr. Carmichael said: “But I don’t quite see — I mean, you’ve got the key.”
“There may be other keys and other people may have them. If Bert sits behind that screen he can see anyone who tries to effect an entry.”
“I can’t imagine anyone wanting to go back. Not even her murderer.”
“Can’t you?” said Alleyn. “I can.”
He and Dr. Carmichael went downstairs to the drawing room leaving Bert on guard.
A wan little trio of leftovers was there: Hilda Dancy, Sylvia Parry, Lattienzo. Mr. Reece, Alleyn gathered, was closeted with Ben Ruby and Hanley in the study. The drawing room had only been half-tidied of its preprandial litter when the news broke. It was tarnished with used champagne glasses, full ashtrays, and buckets of melted ice. The fire had burned down to embers, and when Alleyn came in Signor Lattienzo was gingerly dropping a small log on them.
Miss Dancy at once tackled Alleyn. Was it, she boomed, true that he was in charge? If so would he tell them exactly what had happened. Had the Sommita really been done away with? Did this mean there was a murderer at large in the house? How had she been done away with?
Signor Lattienzo had by this time stationed himself behind Miss Dancy in order to make deprecating faces at Alleyn.
“We have a right to be told,” said the masterful Miss Dancy.
“And told you shall be,” Alleyn replied. “Between one and two hours ago Madame Sommita was murdered in her bedroom. That is all that any of us knows. I have been asked by Mr. Reece to take charge until such time as the local police can be informed. I’m going to organize a search of the premises. There are routine questions that should be asked of everybody who was in the house after the last launch trip. If you would prefer to go to your rooms, please do so but with the knowledge that I may be obliged to call on you when the search is completed. I’m sure Signor Lattienzo will be pleased to escort you to your rooms.”
Signor Lattienzo gave slightly incoherent assurances that he was theirs, dear ladies, to command.
“I’m staying where I am,” Miss Dancy decided. “What about you, dear?”
“Yes. Yes, so am I,” Sylvia Parry decided, and to Alleyn: “Does Rupert know? About Madame Sommita?”
“Dr. Carmichael and I told him.”
Dr. Carmichael made diffident noises.
“It will have been a terrible shock for Rupert,” said Sylvia. “For everybody, of course, but specially for Rupert. After— what happened.” And with an air of defiance she added: “I think Rupert did a very brave thing. It took an awful lot of guts.”
“We all know that, dear,” said Miss Dancy with a kind of gloomy cosiness.
Alleyn said, “Before I go, I wonder if you’d tell me exactly what happened after Bartholomew fainted.”
Their account was put together like a sort of unrehearsed duet with occasional stoppages when they disagreed about details and called upon Signor Lattienzo. It seemed that as soon as Rupert fell, Hanley, who was standing by, said, “Curtains” and closed them himself. Sylvia Parry knelt down by Rupert and loosened his collar and tie. Roberto Rodolfo said something about fresh air and fa
As far as Alleyn could make out, these three men lost no time in tackling the diva in a very businesslike ma
“After Hanley had fetched Dr. Carmichael, what did he do?” Alleyn asked.
Nobody had noticed. Miss Dancy said that he “seemed to be all over the shop” and Sylvia thought it had been he who urged them into the dining room.
On this vague note Alleyn left them.