“Only, of course,” Dulcie added, “nobody’s beheaded a goose this time. There is that, isn’t there, Aunt Akky?”
“Unfortunately,” her great-aunt agreed savagely. She stared pointedly at Dulcie, who giggled vaguely.
“What’s that ass Ernie Andersen up to?” Dame Alice demanded.
“Dear me, yes,” the Rector said. “Look at him.”
Ernie, who had been standing apart from his brothers, apparently in a sulk, now advanced upon them. He gesticulated and turned from one to the other. Fox moved a little closer. Ernie pointed at his brothers and addressed himself to Fox.
“I understand,” Alleyn said, “that he’s been cutting up rough all the afternoon. He wants to play the Father’s part.”
“Mad!” Dame Alice said. “What did I tell you? He’ll get himself into trouble before it’s all over, you may depend ’pon it.”
It was clear that Ernie’s brothers had reacted in their usual way to his tantrums and were attempting to silence him. Simon came through the archway from the back, carrying “Crack’s” head, and walked over to the group. Ernie listened. Simon clapped him good-naturedly on the shoulder and in a moment Ernie had thrown his customary crashing salute.
“That’s done the trick,” Alleyn said.
Evidently Ernie was told to light the torches. Clearly mollified, he set about this task, and presently light fans of crimson and yellow consumed the cold air. Their light quivered over the dolmen and dramatized the attentive faces of the onlookers.
“It’s a strange effect,” the Rector said uneasily. “Like the setting for a barbaric play — King Lear, perhaps.”
“Otterly will agree with your choice,” Alleyn said and Dr. Otterly came out of the shadow at the back of the room. The Rector turned to him, but Dr. Otterly didn’t show his usual enthusiasm for his pet theory.
“I suppose I’d better go out,” he said. “Hadn’t I, Alleyn?”
“I think so. I’m going back now.” Alleyn turned to Dulcie, who at once put on her expression of terrified jocosity.
“I wonder,” Alleyn said, “if I could have some clean rags? Enough to make a couple of thick pads about the size of my hand? And some first-aid bandages, if you have them?”
“Rags!” Dulcie said. “Fancy! Pads! Bandages!” She eyed him facetiously. “Now, I wonder.”
“ ’Course he can have them,” Dame Alice said. “Don’t be an ass, Dulcie. Get them.”
“Very well, Aunt Akky,” Dulcie said in a hurry. She plunged out of the room and in a surprisingly short space of time returned with a handful of old linen and two bandages. Alleyn thanked her and stuffed them into his overcoat pocket.
“I don’t think we shall be long now,” he said. “And when you’re ready, Dame Alice —?”
“I’m ready. Haul me up, will yer? Dulcie! Bundle!”
As this ceremony would evidently take some considerable time, Alleyn excused himself. He and Dr. Otterly went out to the courtyard.
Dr. Otterly joined his colleagues and they all took up their positions offstage behind the old wall. Alleyne paused on the house steps and surveyed the scene.
The sky was clear now and had not yet completely darkened: to the west it was still faintly green. Stars exploded into a wintry glitter. There was frost in the air.
The little party of onlookers stood in their appointed places at the side of the courtyard and would have almost melted into darkness if it had not been for the torchlight. The Andersens had evidently strapped their pads of bells on their thick legs. Peremptory jangles could be heard offstage.
Alleyn’s men were at their stations and Fox now came forward to meet him.
“We’re all ready, Mr. Alleyn, when you are.”
“All right. What was biting Ernie?”
“Same old trouble. Wanting to play the Fool.”
“Thought as much.”
Carey moved out from behind the dolmen.
“I suppose it’s all right,” he murmured uneasily. “You know. Safe.”
“Safe?” Fox repeated and put his head on one side as if Carey had advanced a quaintly original theory.
“Well, I dunno, Mr. Fox,” Carey muttered. “It seems a bit uncanny-like and with young Ern such a queer excitable chap — he’s been saying he wants to sharpen up that damned old sword affair of his. ’Course we won’t let him have it, but how’s he going to act when we don’t! Take one of his fits, like as not.”
“We’ll have to keep a nice sharp observation over him, Mr. Carey,” Fox said.
“Over all of them,” Alleyn demanded.
“Well,” Carey conceded, “I daresay I’m fussy.”
“Not a bit,” Alleyn said. “You’re perfectly right to look upon this show as a chancy business. But they’ve sent us five very good men who all know what to look for. And with you,” Alleyn pointed out wickedly, “in a key position I don’t personally think we’re taking too big a risk.”
“Ar, no-no-no,” Carey said quickly and airily. “No, I wasn’t suggesting we were, you know. I wasn’t suggesting that.”
“We’ll just have a final look round, shall we?” Alleyn proposed.
He walked over to the dolmen, glanced behind it and then moved on through the central arch at the back.
Gathered together in a close-knit group, rather like a bunch of carol singers, with lanthorns in their hands, were the five Andersens. As they changed their positions in order to eye the new arrivals, their bells clinked. Alleyn was reminded unexpectedly of horses that stamped and shifted in their harness. Behind them, near the unlit bonfire, stood Dr. Otterly and Ralph, who was again dressed in his great hooped skirt. Simon stood by the cylindrical cheese-shaped body of the Hobby-Horse. “Crack’s” head grinned under his arm. Beyond these again, were three of the extra police officers. The hedge-slasher, with its half-burnt handle and heat-distempered blade, leant against the wall with the drum of tar nearby. There was a strong tang of bitumen on the frosty air.
“We’ll light the bonfire,” Alleyn said, “and then I’ll ask you all to come into the courtyard while I explain what we’re up to.”
One of the Yard men put a match to the paper. It flared up. There was a crackle of brushwood and a pungent smell rose sweetly with smoke from the bonfire.
They followed Alleyn back, through the archway, past the dolmen and the flaring torches and across the arena.
Dame Alice was enthroned at the top of the steps, flanked, as before, by Dulcie and the Rector. Rugged and shawled into a quadrel with a knob on top, she resembled some primitive totem and appeared to be perfectly immovable.
Alleyn stood on a step below and a little to one side of this group. His considerable height was exaggerated by the shadow that leapt up behind him. The torchlight lent emphasis to the sharply defined planes of his face and gave it a fantastic appearance. Below him stood the five Sons with Simon, Ralph and Dr. Otterly.
Alleyn looked across to the little group on his right.
“Will you come nearer?” he said. “What I have to say concerns all of you.”
They moved out of the shadows, keeping apart, as if each was anxious to establish a kind of disassociation from the others: Trixie, the landlord, Camilla and, lagging behind, Mrs. Bünz. Ralph crossed over to Camilla and stood beside her. His conical skirt looked like a giant extinguisher and Camilla in her flame-coloured coat like a small candle flame beside him.
Fox, Carey and their subordinates waited attentively in the rear.
“I expect,” Alleyn said, “that most of you wonder just why the police have decided upon this reconstruction. I don’t suppose any of you enjoy the prospect and I’m sorry if it causes you anxiety or distress.”
He waited for a moment. The faces upturned to his were misted by their own breath. Nobody spoke or moved.