iii
Lady Appleby in her chair by the piano turned to her husband as if to ask him a question and fainted.
Georgie Biggins screamed like a whistle.
The rector came through the curtain and ran down the steps to the piano. He looked at that figure leaning on the keys, wrung his hands and faced the audience. His lips moved, but he could not be heard.
Dinah came out of the prompt corner and stood transfixed. Her head was bent as if in profound meditation. Then she turned, stumbled past the curtain, calling, “Henry! Henry!” and disappeared.
Dr. Templett, in his appalling make-up; came through from the opposite side of the curtain. He went up to the rector, touched his arm and then descended to the piano. He bent down with his back to the audience, stayed so for a moment and then straightened up. He shook his head slightly at the rector.
Mr. Blandish, in the third row, pushed his way to the aisle and walked up to the stage.
He said, “What’s all this?” in a loud, constabulary tone, and was heard. The hall went suddenly quiet. The voice of Mr. Prosser, the Chipping organist, said all by itself: “It was a gun. That’s what it was. It was a gun.”
Mr. Blandish was not in uniform, but he was dressed in authority. He examined the piano and spoke to Dr. Templett. There was a screen masking the corner on the prompt side between the stage and the wall. The two men fetched it and put it round the piano.
The rector mounted the steps to the stage and faced his parishioners.
“My dear people,” he said in a trembling voice, “there has been a terrible accident. I beg of you all to go away quietly to your own homes. Roper, will you open the door?”
“Just a minute,” said Mr. Blandish. “Just a minute, if you please, sir. This is an affair for the police. Charlie Roper, you stay by that door. Have you got your notebook on you?”
“Yes, sir,” said Sergeant Roper.
“All right.” Mr. Blandish raised his voice. “As you pass out,” he roared, “I’ll ask you to leave your names and addresses with the sergeant on duty at the door. Anybody who has had anything to do with this entertainment,” continued Mr. Blandish with no trace of irony in his voice, “either in the way of taking part or decorating the hall or so forth, will kindly remain behind. Now move along quietly, please, there’s no need to rush. The back benches first. Keep your seats till your turn comes.”
To the rector he said, “I’d be much obliged if you’d go to the back door, sir, and see nobody leaves that way. If it can be locked and you’ve got the key, lock it. We’ll have this curtain up, if you please. I’m going to the telephone. It’s in the back room, isn’t it? Much obliged.”
He went through the back of the stage, passing Dinah and Henry, who stood side by side in the wings.
“Good-evening, Mr. Jernigham,” said the superintendent. “Do you mind raising the curtain?”
“Certainly,” said Henry.
The curtain rose in a series of uneven jerks, revealing to the people still left in the hall a group of four persons: Jocelyn Jernigham, Selia Ross, Eleanor Prentice and the rector, who had returned from the back door with the key in his hand.
“I can’t believe it,” said the rector. “I simply cannot believe that it has happened.”
“Is it murder?” asked Mrs. Ross sharply. Her voice pitched a note too high, sounded shockingly loud.
“I–I can’t believe — ” repeated Mr. Copeland.
“But see here, Copeland,” interrupted the squire, “I don’t know what the devil everybody’s driving at. Shot through the head! What d’you mean? Somebody must have seen something. You can’t shoot people through the head in a crowded hall without being spotted.”
“The shot seems to have come from — from — ”
“From where, for heaven’s sake?”
“From inside the piano,” said the rector unhappily. “We mustn’t touch anything; but it seems to come from inside the piano. You can see through the torn silk.”
“Good God!” said Jocelyn. He looked irritably at Miss Prentice, who rocked to and fro like a middle-aged marionette and moaned repeatedly.
“‘Do be quiet, Eleanor,” said the squire. “Here! Templett!”
Dr. Templett had again gone behind the screen, but he came out and said, “What?” in an irascible voice.
“Has she been shot through the head?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“From inside the piano.”
“I never heard such a thing,” said Jocelyn. “I’m coming to look.”
“Yes. But, I say,” objected Dr. Templett, “I don’t think you ought to, you know. It’s a matter for the police.”
“Well, you’ve just been in there.”
“I’m police surgeon for the district”
“Well, by God,” said the squire, suddenly remembering it, “I’m Acting Chief Constable for the county.”
“Sorry,” said Dr. Templett. “I’d forgotten.”
But the squire was prevented from looking behind the screen by the return of Mr. Blandish.
“That’s all right,” said the superintendent peaceably. He turned to the squire. “I’ve just rung up the station and asked for two chaps to come along, sir.”
“Oh, yes. Yes. Very sensible,” said Jocelyn.
“Just a minute, Blandish,” said Dr. Templett. “Come down here, would you?”
They disappeared behind the screen. The others waited in silence. Miss Prentice buried her face in her hands. The squire walked to the edge of the stage, looked over the top of the piano, turned aside, and suddenly mopped his face with his handkerchief.
Blandish and Templett came out and joined the party on the stage.
“Lucky, in a way, your being here on the spot, sir,” Blandish said to Jocelyn. “Your first case of this sort since your appointment, I believe.”
“Yes.”
“Very nasty affair.”
“It is.”
“Yes, sir. Well now, with your approval, Mr. Jernigham, I’d just like to get a few notes down. I fancy Mr. Henry Jernigham and Miss Copeland are with us.”
He peered into the shadows beyond the stage.
“We’re here,” said Henry.
He and Dinah came on the stage.
“Ah, yes. Good-evening, Miss Copeland.”
“Good-evening,” said Dinah faintly.
“Now,” said Blandish, looking round the stage, “this is the whole company of performers, I take it. With the exception of the deceased, of course.”
“Yes,” said Jocelyn.
“I’ll just make a note of the names.”
They sat round the stage while Blandish wrote in his note-book. A group of ushers and two youths were huddled on a bench at the far end of the hall under the eyes of Sergeant Roper. Dinah fixed her gaze on this group, on Blandish, on the floor, anywhere but on the top of the piano jutting above the footlights and topped with pots of aspidistra. For down through the aspidistras, heavily shadowed by the screen, and not quite covered by the green and yellow bunting they had thrown over it, was Miss Campanula’s body, face down on the keys of the piano. Dinah found herself wondering who was responsible for the aspidistras. She had meant to have them removed. They must mask quite a lot of the stage from the front rows.
“Don’t look at them,” said her mind. She turned quickly to Henry. He took her hands and pulled her round with her back to the footlights.
“It’s all right, Dinah,” he whispered, “it’s all right darling.”
“I’m not panicked or anything,” said Dinah.
“Yes,” said Blandish, “that’s all the names. Now, sir — Well, what is it?”
A uniformed constable had come in from the front door and stood waiting in the hall.
“Excuse me,” said Blandish, and went down to him. There was a short rumbling conversation. Blandish turned and called to the squire.