And Nigel, seated at the piano, saw Alleyn take her by the arm.
“Eleanor Prentice, I arrest you — ”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Case Ends
i
Henry and Dinah sat by the fire in the rectory study and watched the clock.
“Why does he want us to ring up?” said Dinah for perhaps the sixth time. “I don’t understand.”
“I think I do. I think the telephoning’s only an excuse. He wanted us out of the way.”
“But why?”
Henry put his arm round her shoulders and pressed his cheek against her hair.
“Oh, Dinah,” he said.
“What, darling?”
Dinah looked up. He sat on the arm of her chair and she had to move a little in his embrace before she could see his eyes.
“Henry! What is it?”
“I think we’re in for a bad spin.”
“But — isn’t it Mrs. Ross?”
“I don’t think so.”
Without removing her gaze from his face she took his hand.
“I think it’s Eleanor,” said Henry.
“Eleanor!”
“It’s the only answer. Don’t you see that’s what Alleyn was driving at all the time?”
“But she wanted to play. She made the most frightful scene over not playing.”
“I know. But Templett said two days before that she’d never be able to do it. Don’t you see, she worked it so that we should find her crying and moaning, and insist on her giving up?”
“Suppose we hadn’t insisted.”
“She’d have left the safety-catch on or not used the soft pedal, or perhaps she’d have ‘discovered’ the automatic and accused Miss C. of putting it there. That would have made a glorious scene.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“Can you believe it of any one else?”
“Mrs. Ross,” said Dinah promptly.
“No, darling. I rather think Mrs. Ross has merely tried to blackmail my papa. It is my cousin who is a murderess. Shall you enjoy a husband of whom every one will say: ‘Oh, yes, Henry Jernigham! Wasn’t he the Pen Cuckoo murderess’s nephew or son or something?’”
“I shall love my husband and I shan’t hear what they say. Besides, you don’t know. You’re only guessing.”
“I’m certain of it. There are all sorts of things that begin to fit in. Things that don’t fit any other way. Dinah, I know she’s the one.”
“Anyway, my dear darling, she’s mad.”
“I hope so,” said Henry. “God, it’s awful, isn’t it?”
He sprang up and began to walk nervously up and down.
“I can’t stand this much longer,” said Henry.
“It’s time we rang up.”
“I’ll do it.”
But as he reached the door they heard voices in the hall.
The rector came in, followed by Alleyn and the squire.
“Dinah! Where’s Dinah?” cried the rector.
“Here she is,” said Henry. “Father!”
The squire turned a chalk-white face to his son.
“Come here, old boy,” he said. “I want you.”
“That chair,” said Alleyn quickly.
Henry and Alleyn put the squire in the chair.
“Brandy, Dinah,” said the rector. “He’s fainted.”
“No, I haven’t,” said Jocelyn. “Henry, old boy, I’d better tell you — ”
“I know,” said Henry. “It’s Eleanor.”
Alleyn moved back to the door and watched them. He was now a detached figure. The arrest came like a wall of glass between himself and the little group that hovered round Jocelyn. He knew that most of his colleagues accepted these moments of isolation. Perhaps they were scarcely aware of them. But, for himself, he always felt a little like a sort of Mephistophelcs, who looked on at his own handiwork. He didn’t enjoy the sensation. It was the one moment when his sense of detachment deserted him. Now, as they remembered him, he saw in the faces turned towards him the familiar guarded antagonism of herded animals.
He said, “If Mr. Jernigham would like to see Miss Prentice, it shall be arranged. Superintendent Blandish will be in charge.”
He bowed, and was going when Jocelyn said loudly:
“Wait a minute.”
“Yes, sir?” Alleyn moved quickly to the chair. The squire looked up at him.
“I know you tried to prepare me for this,” he said. “You guessed that woman had told me. I couldn’t admit that until — until it was all up — I wouldn’t admit it. You understand that?”
“Yes.”
“I’m all to blazes. Think what to do in the morning. Just wanted to say I appreciate the way you’ve handled things. Considerate.”
“I would have avoided the final scene, sir, if I had seen any other way.”
“I know that. Mustn’t ask questions, of course.
There are some things I don’t understand — Alleyn, you see she’s out of her mind?”
“Dr. Templett, I’m sure, will advise you about an alienist, sir.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
The squire blinked up at him and then suddenly held out his hand.
“Good-night.”
“Good-night, sir.”
Henry said, “I’ll come out with you.”
As they walked to the door, Alleyn thought there were points about being a Jernigham of Pen Cuckoo.
“It’s queer,” said Henry. “I suppose this must be a great shock to us; but at the moment I feel nothing at all. Nothing. I don’t realise that she’s— Where is she?”
“The Yard car is on the way to Great Chipping. She’ll need things from Pen Cuckoo. We’ll let you know what they are.”
Henry stopped dead at the rectory door. His voice turned to ice.
“Is she frightened?”
Alleyn remembered that face with the lips drawn back from the projecting teeth, the tearless bulging eyes, the hands that opened and closed as if they had let something fall.
“I don’t think she is conscious of fear,” he said. “She was quite composed. She didn’t weep.”
“She can’t. Father’s often said she never cried as a child.”
“I remembered your father told me that.”
“I hated her,” said Henry. “But that’s nothing now; she’s insane. It’s strange, because there’s no insanity in the family. What happens? I mean, when will they begin to try her. We — what ought we to do?”
Alleyn told him what they should do. It was the first time he had ever advised the relatives of a person accused of murder, and he said, “But you must ask your lawyer’s advice first of all. That is really all I may tell you.”
“Yes. Yes, of course. Thank you, sir.” Henry peered at Alleyn. He saw him against rods of rain that glinted in the light from the open door.
“It’s funny,” said Henry jerkily. “Do you know, I was going to ask you about Scotland Yard — how one began.”
“Did you think seriously of this?”
“Yes. I want a job. Hardly suitable for the cousin of the accused.”
“There’s no reason why you shouldn’t try for the police.”
“I’ve read your book. Good Lord, it’s pretty queer to stand here and talk like this.”
“You’re more shocked than you realise. If I were you I should take your father home.”
“Ever since yesterday, sir, I’ve had the impression I’d seen you before. I’ve just remembered. Agatha Troy did a portrait of you, didn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“It was very good, wasn’t it? Rather a compliment to be painted by Troy. Is she pleasant or peculiar?”
“I think her very pleasant indeed,” said Alleyn. “I have persuaded her to say she will marry me. Goodnight.”
He smiled, waved his hand and went out into the rain.