Ngaio Marsh - Dead Water

“And it was about 7:40, wasn’t it?”

“About that, yes. Within a couple of minutes, I should say.”

“You didn’t happen to notice Miss Pride? She was in the offing too, and saw Wally.”

“ Was she, by George! No, I didn’t see her. The top of the wheelhouse would cut off my view, I fancy.”

“What exactly was Wally doing? Sorry to nag on about it, but Miss Pride may have missed some little pointer. We need one badly enough, Lord knows.”

“He was jumping about with his back towards me. He waved his arms and did a sort of throwing gesture. Now that you tell me Miss Pride was up by the gates, I should think his antics were directed at her. I seem to remember that the last thing I saw him do was take a run uphill. But it was all quite momentary, you know.”

“His father says Wally was in the house at five past eight.”

Dr. Mayne considered this. “It would still be possible,” he said. “There’s time, isn’t there?”

“On the face of it — yes. Trehern also says that at five past eight, or soon afterwards, he saw you leave in your launch.”

“Does he, indeed! He lies like a flatfish,” said Dr. Mayne. He looked thoughtfully at Alleyn. “Now, I wonder just why,” he said thoughtfully. “I wonder.”

“So do I, I assure you.” They stared meditatively at each other. Alleyn said: “Who do you think was the original Green Lady?”

Dr. Mayne was normally of a sallow complexion, but now a painful red blotted his lean face and transfigured it. “I have never considered the matter,” he said. “I have no idea. It’s always been supposed that he imagined the whole thing.”

“It was Mrs. Barrimore.”

“You can have no imaginable reason for thinking so!” he said angrily.

“I’ve the best possible reason,” said Alleyn. “Believe me. Every possible reason.”

“Do you mean that Mrs. Barrimore, herself, told you this?”

“Virtually, yes. I am not,” Alleyn said, “trying to equivocate. I asked her, and she said she supposed she must congratulate me.”

Dr. Mayne put his glass down and walked about the room with his hands in his pockets. Alleyn thought he was giving himself time. Presently he said: “I can’t, for the life of me, make out why you concern yourself with this. Surely it’s quite beside the point.”

“I do so because I don’t understand it. Or am not sure that I understand it. If it turns out to be irrelevant, I shall make no more of it. What I don’t understand, to be precise, is why Mrs. Barrimore should be so distressed at the discovery.”

“But, good God, man, of course she’s distressed! Look here. Suppose — I admit nothing — but suppose she came across that wretched kid, blubbing his eyes out because he’d been baited about his warts. Suppose she saw him trying to wash them off and, on the spur of the moment, remembering the history of wart cures, she made him believe they would clear up if he thought they would. Very well. The boy goes home, and they do. Before we know — she knows — where she is, the whole thing blows up unto a highly publicized nine days’ wonder. She can’t make up her mind to disabuse the boy or disillusion the people that follow him. It gets out of hand. The longer she hesitates, the harder it gets.”

“Yes,” Alleyn said. “I know. That all makes sense and is perfectly understandable.”

“Very well, then!” he said impatiently.

“She was overwhelmingly anxious that I shouldn’t tell her husband.”

“I daresay,” Dr. Mayne said shortly. “He’s not a suitable subject for confidences.”

“Did she tell you?…All right,” Alleyn said answering the extremely dark look Dr. Mayne gave him. “I know I’m being impertinent. I’ve got to be.”

“I am her doctor. She consulted me about it. I advised her to say nothing.”

“Yes?”

“The thing was working. Off and on, as always happens in these emotional — these faith-cures, if you like — there are authentic cases. With people whose troubles had a nervous connotation, the publicizing of this perfectly innocent deception would have been harmful.”

“Asthma, for one?”

“Possibly.”

“Miss Cost, for instance?”

“If you like.”

“Was Miss Cost a patient of yours?”

“She was. She had moles that needed attention. She came into my nursing home and I removed them. About a year ago, it would be.”

“I wish you’d tell me what she was like.”

“Look here, Alleyn, I really do not see that the accident of my being called out to examine the body requires me to disregard my professional obligations. I do not discuss my patients, alive or dead, with any layman.”

Alleyn said mildly: “His Worship the Mayor seems to think she was a near-nymphomaniac.”

Dr. Mayne snorted.

“Well, was she?”

“All right. All right. She was a bloody nuisance, like many another frustrated spinster. Will that do?”

“Nicely, thank you. Do you imagine she ever suspected the truth about the Green Lady?”

“I have not the remotest idea but I should think it most unlikely. She, of all people! Look at that damn farce of a show, yesterday. Look at her shop! Green ladies by the gross. If you want my opinion on the case, which I don’t suppose you do—”

“On the contrary, I was going to ask for it.”

“Then: I think the boy did it, and I hope that, for his sake, it will go no further than finding that he’s irresponsible and chucked the rock aimlessly or at least with no idea of the actual damage it would do. He can then be removed from his parents, who are no good to him anyway, and given proper care and attention. If I’m asked for an opinion at the inquest that will be it.”

“Tidy. Straightforward. Obvious.”

“And you don’t believe it?”

“I should like to believe it,” said Alleyn.

“I need hardly say I’d be interested to know your objections.”

“You may say they’re more or less mechanical. No,” Alleyn said correcting himself. “That’s not quite it, either. We’ll just have to press on and see how we go. And press on I must, by the same token. My chaps’ll be waiting for me.”

“You’re going out?”

“Yes. Routine, you know. Routine.”

“You’ll be half-drowned.”

“It’s not far. Only to the shop. By the way, did you know we’re moving Miss Pride in the morning? She’s going to the Manor Park Hotel outside Dunlowman.”

“But why? Isn’t she comfortable here?”

“It’s not particularly comfortable to be suspected of homicide.”

“But — oh, good Lord !” he exclaimed disgustedly.

“The village louts shout doggerel at her and the servants have been unpleasant. I don’t want her to be subjected to any more Portcarrow humour in the form of practical jokes.”

“There’s no chance of that, surely. Or don’t you think Miss Cost inspired that lot?”

“I think she inspired them, all right, but they might be continued in her permanent absence; the habit having been formed and Miss Pride’s unpopularity having increased.”

“Absolute idiocy!” he said angrily. “I think, as a matter of fact, I’ve probably stopped the rot, but it’s better for her to get away from the place.”

“You know, I very much doubt if the channel will be negotiable in the morning. This looks like being the worst storm we’ve had for years. In any case, it’ll be devilishly awkward getting her aboard the launch. We don’t want a broken leg.”

“Of course not. We’ll simply have to wait and see what the day brings forth. If you’re going to visit her, you might warn her about the possibility, will you?”

“Yes, certainly.”

They were silent for a moment. A sudden onslaught of the gale beat against the Boy-and-Lobster and screamed in the chimney. “Well, good night,” Alleyn said.