“Yes?”
“Mr. Alleyn, it is very difficult and disagreeable for me to tell you of this incident. Really, I–I—don’t know quite how to begin. You may not be familiar with parochial affairs, but I think many clergy find that there is an unfortunately rather common type of church worker who is always a problem to her parish priest. I don’t know if you will understand me when I say that one finds this type among — dear me — among ladies who are not perhaps very young and who have no other interests.”
The rector was now very pink.
“I think I understand,” said Alleyn.
“Do you? Well, I am sorry to say poor Miss Campanula was really an advanced — er — specimen of this type. Poor soul, she was lonely and she had a difficult temperament which I am sure she did her best to discipline, but at times I could not help thinking that she needed a doctor as well as a priest to help her. I have even suggested as much.”
“That was very wise advice, sir.”
“She didn’t take it,” said the rector wistfully. “She stuck to me, you see, and I’m afraid I failed her.”
“About Friday night?” Alleyn reminded him gently.
“Yes, I know. I’m coming to Friday night; but, really, it’s very difficult. There was a terrible scene. She — I think she had got it into her head that if Dinah married or went away again — Dinah is on the stage, you know — I should be as lonely as she was. She said as much. I was very much startled and alarmed and I was at a loss how to reply. I think she misunderstood my silence. I really can’t quite remember the order of events. It was rather like a bad dream, and still is. She was trembling dreadfully and looking at me with such a desperate expression in her eyes that I–I—I — ”
He shut his eyes tight and added in a great hurry: “I patted her hand.”
“That was quite a natural thing to do, wasn’t it?”
“You wouldn’t have said so if you’d seen the result.”
“No?”
“No, indeed. The next moment she was, to be frank, in my arms. It was without any exception the most awful thing that has ever happened to me. She was sobbing and laughing at the same time. I was in agony. I couldn’t release myself. We never draw our blinds in this room, and there was I in this appalling and even ludicrous situation. I was obliged actually to — to support her. And I was so sorry for her, too. It was so painfully evident that she had made a frightful mistake. I believe she was hysterically delighted. It makes me feel ashamed and, as we used to say when I was young, caddish to repeat all this.”
“It’s beastly for you,” said Alleyn; “but I’m sure you should tell me.”
“I would have preferred, before doing so, to take the advice of one of my brother clergy, but there is no one who — However, that is beside the point. You are being very patient.”
“How did it end?”
“Very badly,” said the rector, opening his eyes wide. “It couldn’t have ended worse. When she had quietened down a little — and it was a long time before she did — I hastened to release myself, and I am afraid the first thing I did was to draw the curtains. You see, some members of the Reading Circle might still have been about. Their young men come up to meet them. Worse than that, Miss Prentice rang up in the morning and said she wanted to speak to me that evening. While Miss Campanula was still with me she telephoned to say she was not coming. That was about 10.15. Dinah took the message and afterwards said she sounded upset. I–I’m afraid I had been obliged to be rather severe with her — I mean as her priest — that afternoon. I had given her certain instructions which would keep her at home, and in any case I think perhaps her finger was too painful. But at the time I expected her, and if she had seen, it would have been — well, really—”
The rector gulped and added quickly: “But that is beside the point. I drew the curtains, and in my flurry I said something to Miss Campanula about expecting Miss Prentice. It turned out that I couldn’t have said anything worse, because when I tried to tell this unfortunate soul that she was mistaken, she connected my explanation with Miss Prentice’s visit.”
“Help!” said Alleyn.
“What did you say? Yes. Yes, indeed. She became quite frantic and I really can not repeat what she said, but she uttered the most dreadful abuse of Miss Prentice and, in a word, she suggested that Miss Prentice had supplanted her, not only in the affairs of the parish, but in my personal regard. I became angry — just angry, as I thought at the time. As her priest I ordered her to stop. I rebuked her and reminded her of the deadly sin of envy. I told her that she must drive out this wickedness from her heart by prayer and fasting. She became much quieter, but as she left she said one sentence that I shall never forget. She turned in the doorway and said, ‘If I killed myself she would suffer for it; but if, as I stand here in this room, I could strike Eleanor Prentice dead, I’d do it!’ And before I could answer her she had gone out and shut the door.”
iv
“Darling,” said Henry, “I think I’d better tell him.”
“But why?”
“Because I believe Eleanor will if I don’t.”
“How could she? It would be too shaming for her. She’d have to say how she behaved when she saw us.”
“No, she wouldn’t. She’d just twist it round somehow so that it looked as if she found us in a compromising position and that you were covered with scarlet shame and I was furious and threatened to scrag her.”
“But, Henry, that would be a deliberate attempt to make him suspect you.”
“I wouldn’t put it past her.”
“Well, I would. If you were tried for murder, it’d be a pretty good scandal, and she wouldn’t care for that at all.”
“No, that’s true enough. Perhaps I may as well keep quiet.”
“I should say you’d better.”
“Dinah,” said Henry, “who do you think—?”
“I can’t think. It seems incredible that any of us should do it. It just isn’t possible.”
“Daddy thinks she did it herself. He won’t say why.”
“What, fixed it up for Eleanor and then at the last minute decided to take the count herself?”
“I suppose so. It must be something she said to him.”
“What do you think of Alleyn?” asked Henry abruptly.
“I like him. Golly, I was rude to him,” said Dinah, hurling another log of wood on the schoolroom fire.
“Were you, my sweet?”
“Yes. I implied he was no gent.”
“Well, that was a lie,” said Henry cheerfully.
“I know it was. He couldn’t have been nicer about it. How I could! Daddy was livid.”
“Naturally. Honestly, Dinah!”
“I know.”
“I love you all the way to the Great Bear and round the Southern Cross and back again.?’
“Henry,” said Dinah suddenly, “don’t let’s ever be jealous.”
“All right. Why?”
“I keep thinking of those two. If they hadn’t been jealous I don’t believe this would have happened.”
“Good heavens, Dinah, you don’t think Eleanor…”
“No. But I sort of feel as if the whole thing was saturated in their jealousy. I mean, it was only jealousy that made them so beastly to each other and to us and to that shifty beast, Mrs. Ross.”
“Why do you call her a shifty beast?”
“Because I know in my bones she is,” said Dinah.