Death at the Bar (20 page)

“What do you say?”

“It doesn’t matter. Everything I say is used against me.”

Alleyn looked at him in silence.

“I think,” he said at last, “that it is my duty to tell you that a dart bearing your fingerprints was sent to the Bureau early this morning. They have been identified and the result has been telephoned to us.”

Legge’s hands moved convulsively.

“They have been identified,” Alleyn repeated, “as those of Montague Thringle. Montague Thringle was sentenced to six years’ imprisonment for embezzlement, a sentence that was afterwards reduced to four years and was completed twenty-six months ago.” He paused. Legge’s face was clay-coloured. “You must have known we’d find out,” said Alleyn. “Why didn’t you tell me last night who you were?”

“Why? Why?” demanded Legge. “You know why. You know well enough. The very sight and sound of the police! Anathema! Questions, questions, questions! At me all the time. Man with a record! Hound him out! Tell everybody! Slam every door in his face. And you have the impertinence to ask me why I was silent. My God!”

“All right,” said Alleyn, “we’ll leave it at that. How did you spend your afternoon?”

“There you go!” cried Legge, half-crying, but still with that curious air of admonishment. “There you go, you see! Straight off. Asking me things like that. It’s atrocious.”

“Nonsense,” said Alleyn.

“Nonsense!” echoed Legge, in a sort of fury. He shook his finger in Alleyn’s face. “Don’t you talk like that to me, sir. Do you know who I am? Do you know that before my misfortune I was the greatest power in English finance? Let me tell you that there are only three men living who fully comprehended the events that brought about the holocaust of ’29 and ’30, and I am one of them. If I had not put my trust in titled imbeciles, if I had not been betrayed by a sulking moron, I should be in a position to send for you when I wished to command your dubious services, or dismiss them with a contemptuous
fiddle-de-dee
.”

This astonishing and ridiculous word was delivered with such venom that Alleyn was quite taken aback. Into his thoughts, with the appropriate logic of topsyturvy, popped the memory of a jigging line —

He pulled himself together, cautioned and tackled Mr. Legge, and at last got a statement from him. He had spent the afternoon packing his books, papers, and effects, and putting them in his car. He had intended to take the first load into his new room that evening. He had also written some letters. He offered, frantically, to show Alleyn the letters. Alleyn had already seen them and they amounted to nothing. He turned Legge over to Oates, whose nose was now plugged with cotton-wool.

“You’d better take him to the station,” said Alleyn.

“I demand bail,” cried Legge in a trembling voice.

“Mr. Harper will see about that,” said Alleyn. “You’re under arrest for a misdemeanour.”

“I didn’t kill him. I know what you’re up to. It’s the beginning of the end. I swear—”

“You are under arrest for assaulting police officers,” said Alleyn, wearily. “I will repeat the caution you have already heard.”

He repeated it and was devoutly thankful when Legge, in a condition of hysterical prostration, was led away. Harper, with Oates and his mate, was to drive him to Illington and lodge him in the police station.

“The Colonel’s at the station,” said Harper acidly. “That was him on the telephone while you were upstairs. His car’s broken down again. Why, in his position and with all his money, he doesn’t — oh well! He wants me to bring him back here, or you to come in. Which it’ll be? The man’ll talk us all dotty, wherever he is.”

“I’ll have another look at Fox,” said Alleyn. “If he’s awake, I’ll get him into bed and then follow you into Illington. I’d like the doctor to see him again.”

“There’ll be no need for that, sir, thank you.”

Alleyn spun round on his heel to see Fox, fully dressed and wearing his bowler hat, standing in the doorway.

i

“I’ve reported for duty, if you please, Mr. Alleyn,” said Fox.

“You unspeakable old ninny,” said Alleyn, “go back to bed.”

“With all respect, sir, I’d rather not. I’ve had a very pleasant nap and am quite myself again. So if you’ll allow me—”

“Br’er Fox,” said Alleyn, “are we to have a row?”

“I hope not, sir, I’m sure,” said Fox tranquilly. “Six years, I think it is now, and never a moment’s unpleasantness, thanks to your tact and consideration.”

“Damn you, go to bed.”

“If it’s all the same to you, sir, I’d rather—”

“Mr. Fox,” Alleyn began very loudly and stopped short. They stared at each other. Harper coughed and moved to the door. Alleyn swore violently, seized Fox by the arm, and shoved him into an armchair. He then knelt on the harlequin rug and lit the fire.

“I’d be obliged, Nick,” said Alleyn over his shoulder, “if you’d bring Colonel Brammington here. Would you explain that circumstances over which I appear to have no control oblige me to remain at the Plume of Feathers.”

“I’m quite able to drive—” Fox began.

“You shut up,” said Alleyn warmly.

Harper went out.

“Offences against discipline,” said Alleyn, “are set forth in the Police Regulations under seventeen headings, including neglect of duty and disobedience to orders, together with a general heading covering discreditable conduct.” He looked up from the fire. “Discreditable conduct,” he repeated.

Fox was shaken up with soundless subterranean chuckles.

“I’m going into the tap-room,” said Alleyn. “If you move out of that chair I’ll damn well serve you with a Misconduct Form. See Regulation 13.”

“I’ll get the Super in as my witness, sir,” said Fox. “See Regulation 17.” And at this pointless witticism he went off into an ecstasy of apoplectic mirth.

Alleyn returned to the tap-room, where Oates still kept guard. Miss Darragh was knitting in the inglenook, Parish stood near the shuttered windows, Cubitt was drawing in the battered sketch-book he always carried in his pocket. Abel glowered in a corner. Mr. Nark wore the expression of one who had been made to feel unpopular.

Alleyn said: “You may open up again if you wish, Mr. Pomeroy. I’m sorry to have kept you all so long. Until you and your rooms had been searched, we had no alternative. To-morrow, you will be asked to sign the statements you have made to Mr. Harper. In the meantime, if you wish, you may go to your rooms. You will not be allowed to leave the premises until further orders. Mr. Nark may go home.”

From the stairs came the sound of heavy steps. Harper and the second constable came down with Legge between them. Alleyn had left the tap-room door open. Six pairs of eyes turned to watch Legge go out

Miss Darragh suddenly called out: “Cheer up, now. It’s nothing at all, man. I’ll go bail for you.”

Will started forward.

“I want to speak to him.”

“Certainly,” said Alleyn.

“I’m sorry it has turned out this way, mate,” said Will, “damned injustice and nothing less. It won’t make any difference with the Party. You know that. We’ll stick by you. Wish I’d bloodied t’other nose and gone to clink along with you.”

“They’ve got a down on me,” said Legge desolately.

“I know that. Good luck!”

“Come along, now,” said Harper. “Get a move on. Ready, Oates?”

Oates went out to them and Alleyn shut the door.

“Well,” said Parish. “I call that a step in the right direction, Mr. Alleyn.”

“For God’s sake, Seb, hold your tongue,” said Cubitt.

“What d’you mean by that, Mr. Parish?” demanded Will. “You’d better be careful what you’re saying, hadn’t you?”

“That’s no way to speak, sonny,” said Abel.

“While I’ve a tongue in my head—” began Will.

“You’ll set a guard on it, I hope,” said Alleyn. “Good night, gentlemen.”

They filed out one by one. Parish was the only one who spoke. With his actor’s instinct for an efficient exit, he turned in the doorway.

“I imagine,” he said, looking steadily at Alleyn, “that I shan’t be run in for contempt, if I venture to suggest that this gentleman’s departure marks the beginning of the end.”

“Oh, no,” said Alleyn politely. “We shan’t run you in for that, Mr. Parish.”

Parish gave a light laugh and followed the others upstairs.

Only Miss Darragh remained. She put her knitting into a large chintz bag, took off her spectacles and looked steadily at Alleyn.

“I suppose you had to take that poor fellow in charge,” she said. “He behaved very foolishly. But he’s a mass of nerves, you know. It’s a doctor he’s needing, not a policeman.”

“Who? Mr. Montague Thringle?” asked Alleyn vaguely.

“So the cat’s out of the bag, is ut?” said Miss Darragh placidly. “Ah, well, I suppose ’twas bound to be. I’ve kept my end of the bargain.”

“I’d very much like to know what it was,” said Alleyn.

“Didn’t you guess?”

“I wondered if by chance Lord Bryonie’s family had promised to keep an eye on Mr. Thringle.”

“Ah, you’ll end in a cocked hat with a plume in ut,” said Miss Darragh, “if ’tis cocked hats they give to Chief Commissioners. That’s ut, sure enough. Me poor cousin Bryonie always felt he’d been responsible for the crash. He was very indiscreet, it seems, and might have helped to patch things up if he’d kept his wits about ’um. But he didn’t. He’d no head for business and he only half-suspected there was anything illegal going on. But he said he’d only learned one kind of behaviour and when it didn’t fit in with finance he was entirely at sea and thought maybe he’d better hold his peace. But it wasn’t in his nature not to talk and that was the downfall of ’um. The jury saw that he’d been no more than a cat’s-paw, but when he got off with the lighter sentence there was a great deal of talk that ’twas injustice and that his position saved him. Thringle felt so himself, and said so. Me cousin never lost his faith in Thringle, who seemed to have cast a kind of spell over ’um, though you wouldn’t think ut possible, would you, to see Thringle now? But in those days he was a fine-looking fellow. Dark as night, he was, with a small imperial, and his own teeth instead of those dreadful china falsehoods they gave ’um in prison. It’s no wonder, at all, you didn’t know ’um from Adam when you saw ’um. Well, the long and short of ut ’twas that, before he died, the family promised poor Bryonie they’d look after Mr. Thringle when he came out of gaol. He was on their conscience and I won’t say he didn’t know ut and make the most of ut. We kept in touch with ’um and he wrote from here saying he’d changed his name to Legge and that he needed money. We’ve not much of that to spare, but we had a family conference and, as I was planning a little sketching jaunt anyway, I said I’d take ut at Ottercombe and see for meself how the land lay. So that was what I did. Don’t ask me to tell you the nature of our talks for they were in confidence and had nothing to say to the case. I wish with all me heart you could have left ’um alone, but I see ’twas impossible. He fought those two big policemen like a Kilkenny cat, silly fellow. But if it’s a question of bailing him out I’ll be glad to do ut.”

“Thank you,” said Alleyn, “I’ll see that the right people are told about it. Miss Darragh, have you done any sketching along the cliffs from the tunnel to Coombe Head?”

Miss Darragh looked at him in consternation. “I have,” she said.

“In the mornings?”

“ ’Twas in the mornings.”

“You were there on the morning Mr. Watchman arrived in Ottercombe?”

She looked steadily at him. “I was,” said Miss Darragh.

“We saw where you had set up your easel. Miss Darragh, did you, from where you were working, overhear a conversation between Miss Moore and Mr. Watchman?”

Miss Darragh clasped her fat little paws together and looked dismally at Alleyn.

“Please,” said Alleyn.

“I did. I could not avoid it. By the time I’d decided I’d get up and show meself above the sky-line, it had gone so far I thought I had better not.”

She gave him a quick look and added hurriedly, “Please, now, don’t go thinking all manner of dreadful things.”

“What am I to think? Do you mean it was a love-scene?”

“Not in — no. No, the reverse.”

“A quarrel?”

“It was.”

“Was it of that scene you were thinking when you told me, this morning, to look further and look nearer home?”

“It was. I wasn’t thinking of her. God forbid. Don’t misunderstand me. I was not the only one who heard them. And that’s all I’ll say.”

She clutched her bag firmly and stood up. “As regards this searching,” added Miss Darragh, “the Superintendent let me off. He said you’d attend to ut.”

“I know,” said Alleyn. “Perhaps you won’t mind if Mrs. Ives goes up with you to your room.”

“Not the least in the world,” said Miss Darragh.

“Then I’ll send for her,” said Alleyn.

ii

While he waited for Harper and the chief constable, Alleyn brought his report up-to-date and discussed it with Fox, who remained weakly insubordinate, in his chair by the fire.

“It’s an ill wind,” said Fox, “that blows nobody any good. I take it that I’ve had what you might call a thorough spring-clean with the doctor’s tube taking the part of a vacuum cleaner, if the idea’s not too fanciful. I feel all the better for it.”

Alleyn grunted.

“I don’t know but what I don’t fancy a pipe,” continued Fox.

“You’ll have another spring-clean if you do.”

“Do you think so, Mr. Alleyn? In that case I’ll hold off. I fancy I hear a car, sir. Coming through the tunnel, isn’t it?”

Alleyn listened.

“I think so. We’ll get the C.C. to fix up a warrant. Well, Br’er Fox, it’s been a short, sharp go this time, hasn’t it?”

“And you were looking forward to a spell in the country, sir.”

“I was.”

“We’ll be here yet awhile, with one thing and another.”

“I suppose so. Here they are.”

A car drew up in the yard. The side door opened noisily, and Colonel Brammington’s voice sounded in the passage. He came in, with Harper and Oates at his heels. The Colonel was dressed in a dinner suit. He wore a stiff shirt with no central stud. It curved generously away from his person and through the gaping front could be seen a vast expanse of pink chest. Evidently he had, at some earlier hour, wetted his hair and dragged a comb through it. His shoe-laces were untied and his socks unsupported. Over his dinner-jacket he wore a green Tyrolese bicycling cape.

“I can’t apologize enough, sir,” Alleyn began, but the Chief Constable waved him aside.

“Not at all, Alleyn. A bore, but it couldn’t be helped. I am distended with rich food and wines. Strong meat belongeth to them that are of full age. I freely confess I outdid the meat, outdid the frolic wine. It was, I flatter myself, a good dinner, but I shall not taunt you with a recital of its virtues.”

“I am sure it was a dinner in a thousand,” said Alleyn. “I hope you didn’t mind coming here, sir. Fox was still—”

“By heaven!” interrupted Colonel Brammington. “This pestilent poisoner o’er-tops it, does it not? The attempt, I imagine, was upon you both. Harper has told me the whole story. When will you make an arrest, Alleyn? May we send this fellow up the ladder to bed, and that no later than the Quarter Sessions? Let him wag upon a wooden nag. A pox on him! I trust you are recovered, Fox? Sherry, wasn’t it? Amontillado, I understand. Double sacrilege, by the Lord!”

Colonel Brammington hurled himself into a chair and asked for a cigarette. When this had been given him, he produced from his trousers pocket a crumpled mass of typescript which Alleyn recognized as the carbon copy of his report.

“I have been over the report, Alleyn,” said Colonel Brammington, “and while you expended your energies so happily in resuscitating the poisoned Fox (and by the way, our murderer carries the blacker stigma of a fox-poisoner) I read this admirable digest. I congratulate you. A masterly presentation of facts, free from the nauseating redundancies of most bureaucratic documents… I implored you to allow me to be your Watson. You consented. I come, full of my theory, ready to admit my blunders. Is there by any chance some flask of fermented liquor in this house to which cyanide has not been added? May we not open some virgin bottle?”

Alleyn went into the bar, found three sealed bottles of Treble Extra, chalked them up to himself and took them with glasses into the parlour.

“We should have a taster,” said Colonel Brammington. “Some Borgian attendant at our call. What a pity the wretched Nark is not here to perform this office.”

“There are times,” said Alleyn, “when I could wish that Mr. Nark had been the corpse in the case. I don’t think we need blench at the Treble Extra and I washed the glasses.”

He broke a paper seal, drew the cork, and poured out the beer.

“Really,” said Colonel Brammington, “I do feel a little timidly about it, I must say. Some fiendish device—”

“I don’t think so,” said Alleyn and took a pull at his beer. “It’s remarkably good.”

“You show no signs of stiffening limb or glassy eye. It is, as you say, good beer. Well now, Alleyn, I understand from Harper that you have all arrived at a decision. I, working independently, have also made up my mind. It would delight me to find we were in agreement and amuse me to learn that I was wrong. Will you indulge me so far to allow me to unfold the case as I see it?”

“We should be delighted, sir,” said Alleyn, thinking a little of his bed.

“Excellent,” said Colonel Brammington. He flattened out the crumpled report and Alleyn saw that he had made copious notes in pencil all over the typescript. “I shall relate my deductions in the order in which they came to me. I shall follow the example of all Watsons and offer blunder after blunder, inviting your compassionate scorn and remembering the observation that logic is only the art of going wrong with confidence. Are you all ready?”

“Quite ready, sir,” said Alleyn.

iii

“When first this case turned up,” said Colonel Brammington, “it seemed to me to be a moderately simple affair. The circumstances were macabre, the apparent weapon unlikely, but I accepted the weapon and rejoiced in the circumstances. It was an enlivening murder.”