“Well, that’s a nice thing!” began Jocelyn crossly.
Alleyn said, “You told me it is out of the question that the automatic could have been substituted for the water-pistol during yesterday morning.”
“Unless it was done under the noses of a bevy of Friendly Young People and most of the company,” said Henry.
“How about the afternoon?”
“It was locked up then and the key, instead of being at the rectory as usual, was hidden, fancifully enough, behind the outside lavatory,” said Henry. “Dinah invented the place of concealment, and announced it at rehearsal. Cousin Eleanor was too put-out to object. Nobody but the members of the cast knew about it. As far as I know, only Templett and Mrs. Ross called in during the afternoon.”
“What did you do?” asked Alleyn.
“I went for a walk on Cloudyfold. I met nobody,” said Henry, “and I can’t prove I was there.”
“Thank you,” said Alleyn mildly. “What about you, sir?”
“I went round the stables with Rumbold, my agent,” said Jocelyn, “and then I came in and went to sleep in the library. I was waked by my cousin at five. We had a sort of high tea at half-past six and went down to the hall at a quarter to seven.”
“All three of you?”
“Yes.”
“And now, if you please,” said Alleyn, “I should like to see Miss Prentice.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Alleyn Goes to Church
i
Miss Prentice came in looking, as Henry afterwards told Dinah, as much like an early Christian martyr as her clothes permitted. Alleyn, who had never been able to conquer his proclivity for first impressions, took an instant dislike to her.
The squire’s manner became nervously proprietary.
“Well, Eleanor,” he said, “here you are. We’re sorry to bring you down. May I introduce Mr. Alleyn? He’s looking into this business for us.”
Miss Prentice gave Alleyn a forbearing smile and a hand like a fish. She sat on the only uncomfortable chair in the room.
“I shall try not to bother you too long,” Alleyn began.
“It’s only,” said Miss Prentice, in a voice that suggested the presence of Miss Campanula’s body in the room, “it’s only that I hope to go to church at eleven.”
“It’s a few minutes after ten. I think you’ll have plenty of time.”
“I’ll drive you down,” said Henry.
“Thank you, dear, I think I should like to walk.”
“I’m going, anyway,” said Jocelyn.
Miss Prentice smiled at him. It was an approving, understanding sort of smile, and Alleyn thought it would have kept him away from church for the rest of his life.
“Well, Miss Prentice,” he said, “we are trying to see daylight through a mass of strange circumstances. There is no reason why you shouldn’t be told that Miss Campanula was shot by the automatic that is kept in a box in this room.”
“Oh, Jocelyn!” said Miss Prentice, “how terrible! You know, dear, we have said it wasn’t really quite advisable, haven’t we?”
“You needn’t go rubbing it in, Eleanor.”
“Why wasn’t it advisable,” asked Henry. “Had you foreseen, Cousin Eleanor, that somebody might pinch the Colt and rig it up in a piano as a lethal booby-trap?”
“Henry dear, please! We just said sometimes that perhaps it wasn’t very wise.”
“Are you employing the editorial or the real ‘we’?”
Alleyn said, “One minute, please. Before we go any further I think, as a matter of pure police routine, I would like to see your finger, Miss Prentice.”
“Oh, dear! It’s very painful. I’m afraid — ”
“If you would rather Dr. Templett unwrapped it— ”
“Oh, no. No.”
“If you will allow me, I think I can do a fairly presentable bandage.”
Miss Prentice raised her eyes to Alleyn’s and a very peculiar expression visited her face, a mixture of archness and submission. She advanced her swathed hand with an air of timidity. He undid the bandage very quickly and lightly and exposed the finger with a somewhat battered stall drawn over a closer bandage. He peeled off the stall and completely unwrapped the finger. It was inflamed, discoloured and swollen.
“A nasty casualty,” said Alleyn. “You should have it dressed again. Dr. Templett — ”
“I do not wish Dr. Templett to touch it.”
“But he could give you fresh bandages and a stall that has not been torn.”
“I have a first-aid box. Henry, would you mind, dear?”
Henry was despatched for the first-aid box. Alleyn redressed the finger very deftly. Miss Prentice watched him with a sort of eager concentration, never lowering her gaze from his face.
“How beautifully you manage,” she said.
“I hope it will serve. You should have a sling, I fancy. Do you want the old stall?”
She shook her head. He dropped it in his pocket and was startled when she uttered a little coy murmur of protestation for all the world as if he had taken her finger-stall from some motive of gallantry.
“You deserve a greater reward,” she said.
“Lummy!” thought Alleyn in considerable embarrassment. He said, “Miss Prentice, I am trying to get a sort of timetable of everybody’s movements from Friday afternoon until the time of the tragedy. Do you mind telling me where you were on Friday afternoon?”
“I was in church.”
“All the afternoon?”
“Oh, no,” said Eleanor, softly.
“Between what hours were you there, please?”
“I arrived at two.”
“Do you know when the service was over?”
“It was not a service,” said Miss Prentice with pale forbearance.
“You were there alone?”
“It was confession,” said Henry impatiently.
“Oh, I see.” Alleyn paused. “Was anybody else there besides yourself and — and your confessor?”
“No. I passed poor Idris on my way out.”
“When was that?”
“I think I remember the clock struck half-past two.”
“Good; And then?”
“I went home.”
“Directly?”
“I took the top lane.”
“The lane that comes out by the church?”
“Yes.”
“Did you pass the parish hall?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t go in?”
“No.”
“Was any one there, do you think?”
“The doors were shut,” said Miss Prentice. “I think the girls only went in for an hour.”
“Were the keys in their place of concealment on Friday?” asked Alleyn.
Miss Prentice instantly looked grieved and shocked. Henry grinned broadly and said, “There’s only one key. I don’t know if it was there on Friday. I think it was. Dinah would know about that. Some of the committee worked there on Friday, as Cousin Eleanor says, but none of us. They may have returned the key to the rectory. I only went halfway down.”
“At what part of the top lane on Friday afternoon did you meet Mr. Henry Jernigham and Miss Copeland, Miss Prentice?”
Alleyn heard her draw in her breath and saw her turn white. She looked reproachfully at Henry and said:
“I’m afraid I do not remember.”
“I do,” said Henry. “It was at the sharp bend above the foot-bridge. You came round the corner from below.”
She bent her head. Henry looked as if he dared her to speak.
“There’s something damned unpleasant about this,” thought Alleyn.
He said, “How long did you spend in conversation with the others before you went on to Pen Cuckoo?”
An unlovely red stained her cheeks.