“We may as well keep our tempers, Nick,” said Hersey.
“You made a face as if to say Bill was still pretty tricky. I did ‘Thumbs up?’ and you did ‘Thumbs down,’ and then you sat in that chair by the door and we talked about Bill. After a bit, Jo offered you a drink.”
“Agreed?”
“Agreed,” said Mandrake. Jonathan uttered an impatient sound and added very querulously: “Yes. Oh, yes.” Nicholas said: “Oh, by all means, agreed,” and laughed.
“There’s the chair,” said Alleyn.
Nicholas dropped into the armchair on the opposite side of the door from Bailey’s stool.
“Jonathan asked me to ring for drinks,” said Mandrake, “but, before I could do so, we heard a clink of glasses in the hall and—”.
He stopped short. Fox had opened the door into the hall and in the complete silence that followed they all heard the faint jingling of glasses.
Thomas came in with the grog tray.
He set it on the table and went out, shutting the door behind him.
“He is now tidying the hall,” said Alleyn.
“I’m not enjoying this,” said Hersey Amblington loudly. “I’m hating it.”
“It will not be much longer,” said Alleyn. Mandrake heard his own voice saying: “But it is horrible. We’re creating it all over again. It’s as if we were making something take form — in there.”
“Oh, don’t,” Hersey whispered.
“There is no one in the smoking-room,” said Alleyn, and he spoke with unexpected emphasis. “The other doors are locked. There is no one in there. Please go on. Did you have your drinks?”
Nobody answered. At last Mandrake forced himself to speak. “Jonathan poured them out and then he said: ‘What about William?’ ”
“One moment. You should be at the table, then, Mr. Royal.”
Jonathan went to the table. Mandrake’s voice went on: “He said: ‘What about William?’ meaning would he like a drink, and Compline stuck his head in at the door and sang out: ‘Coming in for a drink, Bill?’ ”
Nicholas reached out and opened the door. He made an attempt to speak, boggled over it, and finally said: “I asked him to come in. I think he sort of grunted. Then I asked him to turn on the news. Mandrake had suggested that we might listen to it.”
“What exactly did you say?”
“I can’t remember the precise words.”
“I can,” said Mandrake. “Or pretty nearly. You said: ‘D’you mind switching on the wireless? It’s time for the news and we’d like to hear it.’ Then there was a slight pause.”
Nicholas said: “I waited, and heard someone walk across the floor; and I called out: ‘Thanks!’ ”
Another heavy silence fell upon the room. Fox stood motionless by the door into the hall, Bailey by the door into the smoking-room, Alleyn close to Jonathan by the table.
“And then?” Alleyn asked.
“And then we heard the wireless,” said Mandrake.
Bailey’s hand moved.
And in the empty smoking-room a voice roared —
“… out the barrel,
Roll out the barrel again.”
Jonathan Royal screamed out an oath and backed away from the table, his hand to his mouth.
He was almost knocked over. Nicholas had stumbled towards the door, where he was checked by Bailey. He struck at Bailey, turned, and made for the door into the hall, where Alleyn barred the way. Nicholas mouthed at him.
“Steady,” said Alleyn. Nicholas stretched out his uninjured arm, pointing back to the empty room: “I didn’t touch it,” he gabbled, “I didn’t touch it. Hart did it. It’s the second booby-trap. Don’t look at me like that. You can’t prove anything against me.” He fell back a pace. Alleyn made a move and Nicholas sprang at him. Bailey and Fox closed in on Nicholas Compline.
Chapter XVII
Departure
The rain fell steadily over Highfold all through that night. When in the dead light of dawn Alleyn shaved and washed in the downstairs cloak-room, the house still drummed faintly to the inexorable onslaught of the rain. At five o’clock the Great Chipping police had telephoned to say they were coming through by the Pen-Gidding road and that an ambulance was already on its way. At half-past five, Nicholas Compline lifted a blotched face from his arm and, breaking a silence of six hours, told Fox he wished to make a statement. At six o’clock, Dr. Francis Hart had an interview with Alleyn. He arrived fully dressed and said that with the permission of the authorities he would attempt to drive home by the long route. “My wife has asked me to take her with me,” he said. “I have agreed to do so, if you allow.” Alleyn consented readily. Dr. Hart then made him a formal speech, causing him acute embarrassment by many references to the courtesy and integrity of the British police.
“Never for a moment,” Dr. Hart said, “was I in doubt of the issue. As soon as I heard of William Compline’s death I knew that it must be his brother.”
“You seem to have been the only member of the party who refused to be bamboozled by fancy touches,” said Alleyn. “Why were you so certain?”
“I understand my wife,” said Dr. Hart simply. He clasped his hands over his waistcoat, frowned judicially, and continued: “My wife is extremely mercenary and an almost perfect egoist. She was in love with Nicholas Compline. That I perceived and with that knowledge I tortured myself. She loved him as much as she could love anyone other than herself and obviously he was quite determined to have her. Whether she was his mistress or not I am unable to decide, but in any case my own suspicious attitude and the scenes I created so continually must have been very irksome. I have no doubt he wished to see her break with me and if possible obtain a divorce. That, of course, she would refuse to do. A young man with little money would never persuade her to embark on a damaging scandal. But a young man with a large estate and fine prospects — how different! No doubt she told him so. I do not believe she was aware of his guilt, still less that she was a partner in his crime. She would never risk such a proceeding. No. She thought I killed William Compline, and that when I was hanged she would wait for a discreet period and then marry his brother. She will now strain every nerve to disassociate herself from Nicholas.”
“I’m afraid,” said Alleyn grimly, “that she will not succeed.”
“Of course not. But if you interview her she will try to persuade you that his motive was purely mercenary and that she was the victim of his importunities. She will also offer to return to me.”
Alleyn glanced up quickly. “No,” said Dr. Hart. “I have recovered from that sickness. She would have betrayed me. In our last interview before the crime she told me that if anything happened to Compline she would accuse me. I said she would not have the courage and she replied that where much was at stake she would dare much. I felt as a man might feel if some possession he had treasured was suddenly proved to be worthless. I have lost all desire for my wife.”
“You have been very frank,” said Alleyn, after a pause. “When this is all over what do you mean to do?”
“I am a surgeon. I think in a little while there will be a need for many surgeons in England. Perhaps, who knows, I may do more admirable work than the patching-up of faded women’s faces.” Dr. Hart pulled at his lips with his finger. “All the same,” he said, “I wish I had been able to save her life.”
“It would have been no great service to her, you know.”
“I suppose not.” He held out his hand. “Good-bye, Chief-Inspector,” he said, and bowed stiffly from the waist. Alleyn watched him go, an almost arrogantly foreign figure in his English tweeds. A little while later he heard a car drive round the house. Bailey came in to say that Madame Lisse wished to see him before she left. Alleyn grimaced. “I’m engaged,” he said. “Tell her Mr. Fox will see her. I think she’ll say it doesn’t matter.”