“Right.”
“And you make out they got nothing to do with it?”
“I don’t think, at this stage, that it looks as if any of them killed him.”
“You got to be joking.”
“Have I?” said Alleyn.
Mr. Smith made a noise suggestive of contempt and disgust, and placed himself in front of the Colonel, who was leaning back in his chair frowning to himself.
“Glad to see you, Colonel,” said Mr. Smith. “It’s time we got together for a talk. ’Illy’s coming down when he’s broken the news to ’is loved one and collected ’is Auntie. Any objections?” he shot at Alleyn.
“Good Lord!” Alleyn said. “What possible objections could there be and how on earth could I enforce them? You can hold meetings all over the house if you feel so disposed. I only hope a bit of hog-sense comes out of them. If it does I’ll be glad if you’ll pass it on. We could do with it.”
“Honestly,” said Mr. Smith sourly, “you devastate me.”
Hilary came in with Mrs. Forrester and Cressida, who was en negligée and looked beautiful but woebegone. The other two were dressed.
Mrs. Forrester gave her husband a sharp look and sat beside him. He nodded as if, Alleyn thought, to reassure her and stave off any conversation. Hilary glanced unhappily at Alleyn and stood before the fire. Cressida approached Alleyn, gazed into his face, made a complicated, piteous gesture and shook her lovely head slowly from side to side after the manner of a motion-picture star attempting the ineffable in close-up.
“I can’t cope,” she said. “I mean I just can’t. You know?”
“You don’t really have to,” he said.
An expression that might have been the prelude to a grin dawned for a moment. “Well, actually I don’t, do I?” said Cressida. “Still, admit — it’s all a pretty good drag, isn’t it?”
She gave him another extremely matey look and then, in her usual fashion collapsed superbly into a chair.
Smith, Mrs. Forrester and even Hilary stared at her with unmistakable disfavour, Colonel Forrester with a kind of tender bewilderment.
“Cressy, my dear!” he mildly protested.
And at that an astonishing change came about in Cressida. Her eyes filled with tears, her mouth quivered and she beat with her pretty clenched fists on the arms of her chair. “All right, you lot,” she stammered. “I know what you’re thinking: how hard and mod and ghastly I’m being. All right. I don’t drip round making sorry-he’s-dead noises. That doesn’t mean I don’t mind. I do. I liked him — Moult. He was nice to me. You’ve all seen death, haven’t you? I hadn’t. Not ever. Not until I looked out of my window this morning and saw them putting it in a car, face up and awful. You needn’t say anything, any of you. No, Hilly, not even you — not yet. You’re old, old, all of you and you don’t get it. That’s all. Crack ahead with your meeting, for God’s sake.”
They stared at each other in consternation. Cressida beat on the arms of her chair and said, “Damn! I won’t bloody cry. I won’t.”
Hilary said, “Darling —” but she stamped with both feet and he stopped. Smith muttered something that sounded like “does you credit, love,” and cleared his throat.
Mrs. Forrester said: “I collect, Smith, that ludicrous as it sounds, you wish to hold some sort of meeting. Why don’t you do it?”
“Give us a chance,” he said resentfully.
Alleyn said, “I’m afraid I’m the stumbling block. I’ll leave you to it in a moment.”
Colonel Forrester, with something of an effort, got to his feet.
“Ask you to excuse me,” he said to Smith. “I’m not much good at meetings. Never have been. If you’ll allow me, Hilly, I’ll just sit in your study till breakfast.”
“Fred —”
“No, B. I haven’t got one of my Turns. I simply would like a moment or two to myself, my dear.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No,” said the Colonel very firmly indeed. “Don’t fuss me, B. I prefer to be alone.” He went to the door, paused and looked at Cressida. She had her hand pressed to her mouth. “Unless,” the Colonel said gently, “you would care to join me, Cressy, presently. I think perhaps we’re both duffers at meetings, don’t you?”
She lifted her hand from her lips, sketched the gesture of blowing him a kiss, and contrived a smile. “I’ll come,” said Cressida. The Colonel nodded and left them. Alleyn opened the door for him. Before he could shut it again Mr. Fox appeared. Alleyn went out to him, pulling the door to. According to its habit it clicked and opened a few inches.
Fox rumbled at some length. Isolated words reached the listeners round the fire. “Finished… dressing-room… nothing… latent… urgent.”
Alleyn said, “Yes. All right. Tell the men to assemble in the stable yard. I want to speak to them. Tell Bailey and Thompson to leave the box out and the dressing-room unlocked. We’ve finished up there. Colonel Forrester will open the box when he’s ready to do so.”
“It’s an urgent phone call, Mr. Alleyn.”
“Yes. All right. I’ll take it. Away you go.”
He started off, clapped his hand to his waistcoat and said: “Damn, I forgot. The key of the box?”
“I’ve got it. Nothing for us, there.”
“Let the Colonel have it, then, will you, Fox?”
“Very good, sir.”
“I’ll take this call in the drawing-room. I’ll probably be some time over it. Carry on, Fox, will you? Collect the men outside at the back.”
“Certainly, sir,” Fox said.
Fox shut the library door and Alleyn went into the hall.
But he didn’t speak on the drawing-room, or any other, telephone. He ran upstairs two steps at a time, jolting discomfort to his left arm, and sought out his wife in their room.
“My love,” he said. “I want you to stay put. Here. And be a triple ape.”
“What on earth’s a triple ape?”
Alleyn rapidly touched her eyes, ears and lips.
“Oh,” she said flatly. “I see. And I don’t breathe either, I suppose.”
“There’s my girl. Now listen —”
He had not gone far with what he had to say before there was a knock on the door. At a nod from him, Troy called out, “Just a second. Who is it?”
The door opened a crack.
Fox whispered, “Me.”
Alleyn went to him. “Well?”
“Like a lamb,” said Fox, “to the slaughter.”
Ten — Departure
“What I got to say,” said Mr. Smith, “is important and I’ll thank you to hear me out. When I’ve said it, I’ll welcome comment, but hear me out first. It’s a bit of luck for us that flipping door opens of itself. You heard. He’s got a phone call and he’s going to talk to his mob in the backyard. That gives us a breather. All right. He’s made up his mind, Gawd knows why, that your lovely lot’s out of it, ’Illy. That means — it’s got to mean — ’e’s settled for one of us. So what we say in the next confrontation is bloody important. No, Missus, don’t butt in. Your turn’s coming.
“Now. We know Alf Moult was alive when ’e finished ’is act and waltzed out of the drawing-room winder looking a proper charlie and all. We know ’e was alive when ’e ’ad ’is whiskers taken off. We know ’e was left, alive, in the cloakroom. And that’s all we do know of our own observations. So. The important thing for us is to be able to account for ourselves, all of us, from the time we last see ’im. Right? A-course it’s right.
“Well then. As it appears, we all can answer for the fair sex in the person of Cressy Tottenham. Matter of a minute after Alf finished his act, Cressy come in, having removed his whiskers for ’im, and she certainly hadn’t ’ad time to do ’im in and dispose of ’is body.”