Death and the Dancing Footman (26 page)

Jonathan said hurriedly and rather ludicrously: “You don’t know Mr. Alleyn, Hersey. My cousin, Lady Hersey Amblington, Alleyn.”

“If he’s still—” Alleyn began, and Hersey said quickly: “He’s done everything possible. I’m afraid he doesn’t think it’s going to be any use. He’s been rather marvellous, Mr. Alleyn.”

Before Alleyn could reply to this unexpected tribute or to the petulant little cluck with which Jonathan received it, the door was suddenly pulled wide open from within and there stood a heavy pale man, wearing no jacket, his shirt sleeves rolled up, his face glistening.

“What
is
all this?” demanded Dr. Hart. “What now! Lady Hersey, you have no business to stand chattering in doorways when perhaps I may need you.”

“I’m sorry,” said Hersey meekly, and disappeared into the room. Hart glared at Alleyn. “Well?” he said.

“I’m an officer of Scotland Yard, Dr. Hart. May I speak to you?”

“Why, in God’s name, haven’t you brought a medical man with you? Well, well, come in here. Come in.”

So Alleyn went into the room and Hart very neatly shut the door in Jonathan’s face.

The bed had been moved out from the wall and the light from a large window fell across it and directly upon the face of the woman who lay there. Her eyes were not quite closed, nor was her mouth which, Alleyn saw, was crooked, dragged down on one side as though by an invisible cord. So strong was the light that coming from the dark passage he saw the scene as a pattern of hard whites and swimming blacks, and some moments passed before his eyes found, in the shadows round the bed, a litter of nursing paraphernalia which Hersey at once began to clear away. Alleyn became aware of a slow, deep, and stertorous rhythm, the sound of the patient’s breathing.

“Is she deeply unconscious?” he asked.

“Profound coma,” said Hart. “I have, I think, done everything possible in the way of treatment. Mr. Mandrake gave me your notes, which I understand came from a surgeon at Scotland Yard. They confirmed my own opinion as regards treatment. I am deeply disappointed that you have not brought a medical man with you, not because I believe he could do anything, but because I wish to protect myself.”

“Was the stuff from the local chemist no use?”

“It enabled me to complete the treatment, but the condition has not improved. Have you pencil and paper?” demanded Dr. Hart surprisingly.

“I have.” Alleyn’s hand went to his pocket.

“I wish you to record the treatment. I am in a dangerous position. I wish to protect myself. Lady Hersey Amblington will be witness to my statement. I have administered injections of normal saline and of Croton oil. Every attempt to obtain elimination — You are not taking notes,” said Dr. Hart accusingly.

“Dr. Hart,” said Alleyn, “I shall take exhausive notes in a little while and you will be given every opportunity to make statements. At the moment I am concerned with your patient. Is there the smallest hope of her recovery?”

“In my opinion, none. That is why—”

“I think I understand your position. Has she, at any time since you have attended her, regained consciousness?”

Dr. Hart turned down his shirt sleeves and looked about for his aggressively countrified coat. Hersey at once brought it and helped him into it, and Alleyn found a moment in which to appreciate Dr. Hart’s unconscious acceptance of her attention.

“At first,” he said, “she could be made to wince by slapping the face. Twice she opened her eyes. The last time was when her son tried to rouse her. Otherwise there has been nothing.”

Hersey made a sharp movement and Alleyn said: “Yes, Lady Hersey? You were going to say something, weren’t you?”

“Only that she did speak once. Dr. Hart was at the far end of the room and I don’t think he heard her.”

“What is this?” said Hart sharply. “You should have told me immediately. When did the patient speak?”

“It was when Nicholas was here. You remember he shouted. You told him to. And he shook her. There was no response, she had closed her eyes again, and you — you sort of threw up your hands and walked away. Do you remember?”

“Of course I remember!”

“Nicholas leant forward and put his hand against her cheek — the disfigured cheek. He did it quite gently, but it seemed to rouse her. She opened her eyes and said one word. It was the faintest whisper. You couldn’t have heard.”

“Well, well, well, what was this one word?” Hart demanded. “Why did you not call me, at once? What was it?”

“It was your name.” There was a short silence and Hersey added: “She didn’t speak again.”

Alleyn said: “Did you get the impression that she spoke with any intention?”

“I — don’t think so. Perhaps she realized Dr. Hart was attending her,” said Hersey, and Alleyn thought: “You don’t believe that.” He moved nearer to the bed and Dr. Hart joined him there. “How long?” Alleyn murmured.

“Not very long, I think.”

“Should I fetch Nicholas?” said Hersey.

“Does he wish to return?” asked Hart coolly.

“I don’t think so. Not unless — I promised I would tell him when—”

“It will not be just yet, I think.”

“Perhaps I’d better tell him that. He’s in his room. I shall be there if you want me.”

Alleyn opened the door for her. When he moved back into the room, Dr. Hart was stooping over his patient. Without turning his head, but with a certain deepening of his voice, he said: “I would have given much — I would have given something that I have struggled greatly to retain — if by doing so I could have saved this case. Do you know why that is?”

“I think perhaps I might guess.”

“Come here, Inspector. Look at that face. For many years I used to dream of those disfigurements, for a long time I was actually afraid to go to sleep for fear I should be visited by a certain nightmare, a nightmare of the re-enactment of my blunder and of the terrible scene that followed her discovery of it. You have heard, of course, that she recognized me and that the elder son, who has been killed, reacted most violently to her story?”

“I’ve been given some account of it,” said Alleyn without emphasis.

“It is true that I was the Franz Hartz of Vienna who blundered. If I could have saved her life I would have felt it to be an atonement. I always knew,” said Dr. Hart, straightening his back and facing Alleyn, “I always knew that some day I should meet this woman again. There is no use in concealing these things from you, Inspector. These others, these fools, will come screaming at you, eager to accuse me. I have refused to discuss my dilemma with any one of them. I am ready to discuss it with you.”

Alleyn reflected with faint amusement that this, from a leading suspect, was just as well. He complimented Dr. Hart on his decision, and together they moved away from the bed to a more distant window, where Jonathan’s bouquet of everlasting flowers, papery little mummies, still rustled in their carefully chosen vase. And now Alleyn did produce a pocket notebook.

“Before we begin,” he said. “Is there any possibility that Mrs. Compline will regain consciousness?”

“I should say there is not the remotest possibility. There may be a change. I expect, and your police-surgeon’s advice confirms my suspicion, that the respiration may change. I should prefer to remain in this room. We shall conduct the interview here, if you please.”

And, while the light from a rain-blurred window inperceptibly thickened and grew cold upon the face of Dr. Hart’s patient, he answered Alleyn’s questions. Alleyn had had official dealings with aliens for many years. Since the onset of Nazidom he had learned to recognize a common and tragic characteristic in many of them, and that was a deep-seated terror of plainclothes police officers. Dr. Hart’s attitude surprised him very much. As he carried forward his questions he found that in the face of what appeared to be an extremely nasty position, Hart showed little nervousness. He answered readily but with a suggestion of impatience. Alleyn was more than usually careful to give him the official warnings. Hart listened to them with an air of respect, nodding his head gravely but showing no inclination to consider his answers more carefully. If he was indeed innocent, he was the ideal witness, but in this case his belief in his own safety was alarming. If he was guilty, he was a very cool customer indeed. Alleyn decided to try him a little further.

“It comes to this, then,” he said. “You can offer no explanation of how this extra Charter form, containing the warning, reached Mr. Compline. Nor have you any theory as to who pushed Mr. Mandrake into the pond, though you agree that you saw Mr. Compline leave for the pond wearing precisely the same kind of cape. Is that right?”

“It is true that I do not know who pushed Mr. Mandrake into the pond,” said Hart slowly. “As for the Charter form, I suggested at the time that I might have torn two forms off together and that the bottom form had been written by somebody else.”

“Someone who made letters reminiscent of your own writing?”

“I have not seen the form. I do not know what was written on it.

“Five words. ‘You are warned. Keep off.’ ”

A dull red crept into those heavy cheeks. For the first time he seemed disconcerted. For the first time Alleyn saw the nervous tic flutter under his lip.

“Dr. Hart,” Alleyn said, “of all the people in that room, who had most cause to send such a message to Nicholas Compline?”

“Two people had cause. His brother and myself. His brother had cause. Had he not practised his goat’s tricks upon the girl, the brother’s fiancée?”

“And only on her?” Hart was silent. “Is it true,” Alleyn asked, “that you had written to Nicholas Compline, objecting to his friendship with your wife and threatening to take certain steps if this friendship continued?”

“Did
he
tell you that?” Hart demanded.

“I haven’t seen him yet, but if you wrote such letters he’s not likely to keep it a secret.”

“I do not deny that I wrote them. I deny that I wrote this ridiculous message. And I object most strongly to the introduction into this affair of matters that concern only myself.”

“If they prove to be irrelevant they will not be made public. Dr. Hart, you tell me you have nothing to fear and nothing to conceal from me. At the same time you don’t deny that you threatened Nicholas Compline. I must tell you that I’ve had a very full account of this week-end from a member of your party. I’ve warned you that your statements, if relevant, may be used in subsequent proceedings. I’m going to ask you certain questions and I shall do my best to check your answers. We shall get on a good deal faster if you don’t challenge my questions, but either refuse or consent to give plain answers to them.”

There was a pause and then Hart said hurriedly: “Very well, very well. I do not seek to obstruct you. It is only that there is one matter that is most painful to me. Unendurably painful.”

“I’m sorry. Do you agree that you were at enmity with Compline?”

“I objected to his behavior in regard to — my wife.”

“Did he know she was your wife?”

“I desired to tell him so.”

“But you didn’t tell him?”

“No. My wife did not wish me to do so.”

“Have you quarrelled with him since you came to Highfold?”

“Yes. Openly. I have not attempted to conceal my mistrust and dislike of him. Would a man who was planning a murder behave in such a manner? Would he not rather simulate friendship?”

Alleyn looked at the pale face with its twitching lip. “If he was in full command of his emotions, no doubt he would attempt to do so.” Hart found no answer to this and he went on: “Did you meet anyone on your way from the house to the pond?”

“No.”

“I have had a very brief look at that part of the garden. You went by a path that comes out at the back of the pavilion?”

“Yes.”

“What did you see as you came round the pavilion?”

“I heard shouts and I saw William Compline, Nicholas Compline, Miss Wynne and Mr. Royal gesticulating on the edge of the pond.”

“Yesterday evening when you came upstairs to dress, did you see anybody after you went to your room?”

“Nobody.”

“Have you ever touched the brass Buddha that injured Nicholas Compline?”

“Never. But — wait a moment… Yes. Yes, my God, I have touched it!”

“When?”

“It was the first night. We went up to our rooms. I remember I drew back because I did not wish to accompany Nicholas Compline, who walked a little ahead with his brother. Mr. Royal drew my attention to this Buddha. He asked me if I knew anything of Oriental art. As an excuse to delay, I feigned an interest. I reached out my hands and touched it. Compline made some remark on the obesity of the Buddha. It was an insult to me. Whenever he could insult me he did so. So I have touched it.”

“Coming back to last night. Will you describe your movements from the time you entered the green ‘boudoir’ until the time you went upstairs for the last time?”

Hart did this and his description tallied with Mandrake’s note. “I felt I could not dine with them. They suspected me. It was an intolerable situation. I spoke to Mr. Royal and he suggested that I remain in that room. When, as I have told you, I finally left it, it was the first time. I went straight to my room. The footman saw me.”

“Had you been into the smoking-room at any time yesterday?”

“I do not think so. That insufferable machine was there. In the morning he had driven me crazy with it. First one horrible noise, then another, and all of them distorted. I cannot endure radio. I have a radio-phobia. I did not go into the room at all yesterday.”

“But you have been there at some time?”

“Oh, yes. The first night we played this Charter game in that room.”

“Will you describe the room to me?”

“Describe it? But you have seen it? Why should I?”

“I should like you to do so if you will.”

Hart stared at Alleyn as if he were insane and began a laborious catalogue. “First, then, if you must have it, there is this detestable radio close to the ‘boudoir’ door. When I think of the room I think of the radio by which it is made hideous. There are English leather chairs. There is a red leather screen. There are pictures, English sportings, I think. And photographs, very old and faded. There is such a photograph above the mantelpiece of an old fellow with a fish. He wears an absurd costume. There is also hanging on the wall a fishing-rod. Surely this is a great waste of time, Inspector.”