Ngaio Marsh - Spinsters in Jeopardy

“I have decided to overlook it. The circumstances were extraordinary.”

“That is true, Monsieur. Nevertheless, the incident had the effect of incensing me against Teresa who, foolish as she is, has yet got something which caused me to betray my duty. That is why I spoke a little sharply to Teresa. With results,” he added, “that are, as Monsieur may have noticed, not undesirable.”

“I have noticed. Sit down, Raoul.”

Raoul bowed and sat down. Madame Milano, beaming and business-like, returned with a book in her hands. It was a shabby large book with a carefully mended binding. She laid it on the table in front of Ricky.

“When my son was no larger than this little Monsieur,” she said, “it afforded him much amusement.”

“ Merci, Madame,” Ricky said, eyeing it.

Troy and Alleyn also thanked her. She made a deprecating face and bustled away. Ricky opened the book. It was a tale of heroic and fabulous adventures enchantingly illustrated with coloured lithographs. Ricky honoured it with the silence he reserved for special occasions. He removed himself and the book to another table. “Coming, Mum?” he said and Troy joined him. Alleyn looked at the two dark heads bent together over the book and for a moment or two he was lost in abstraction. He heard Raoul catch his breath in a vocal sigh, a sound partly affirmative, partly envious. Alleyn looked at him.

“Monsieur is fortunate,” Raoul said simply.

“I believe you,” Alleyn muttered. “And now, Raoul, we make a plan. Earlier today, and I must say it feels more like last week, you said you were willing to join in an enterprise that may be a little hazardous: an enterprise that involves an unsolicited visit to the Chèvre d’Argent on Thursday night.”

“I remember, Monsieur.”

“Are you still of the same mind?”

“If possible, I feel an increase of enthusiasm.”

“Good, now, listen. It is evident that there is a close liaison between the persons at the Château and those at the factory. Tonight the commissary will conduct an official search of the factory and he will find documentary evidence of the collaboration. It is also probable that he will find quantities of illicitly manufactured heroin. It is not certain whether he will find direct and conclusive evidence of sufficient weight to warrant an arrest of Mr. Oberon and Dr. Baradi and their associates. Therefore, it would be of great assistance if they could be arrested for some other offense and could be held while further investigations were made.”

“There is no doubt, Monsieur, that their sins are not confined to contraband.”

“I agree.”

“They are capable of all.”

“Not only capable but culpable! I think,” Alleyn said, “that one of them is a murderer.”

Raoul narrowed his eyes. His stained mechanic’s hands lying on the table, flexed and then stretched.

“Monsieur speaks with confidence,” he said.

“I ought to,” Alleyn said drily, “considering that I saw the crime.”

“You—”

“Through a train window.” And Alleyn described the circumstances.

“Bizarre,” Raoul commented, summing up the incident. “And the criminal, Monsieur?”

“Impossible to say. I had the impression of a man or woman in a white gown with a cowl or hood. The right arm was raised and held a weapon. The face was undistinguishable although there was a strong light thrown from the side. The weapon was a knife of some sort.”

“The animal,” said Raoul, who had settled upon this form of reference for M. Oberon, “displays himself in a white robe.”

“Yes.”

“And the victim was a woman, Monsieur?”

“A woman. Also, I should say, wearing some loose-fitting garment. One saw only a shape against a window blind and then for a second, against the window itself. The man, if it was a man, had already struck and had withdrawn the weapon which he held aloft. The impression was melodramatic,” he added, almost to himself. “Over-dramatic. One might have believed it was a charade.”

“A charade, Monsieur?”

“Dr. Baradi offered the information that there were charades last night. It appears that someone played the part of the Queen of Sheba stabbing King Solomon’s principal wife. He himself enacted a concubine.”

“Obviously he is not merely a satyr but also a perverted being — a distortion of nature. Only such a being could invent such a disgusting lie.”

While he grinned at Raoul’s scandalized sophistry Alleyn wondered at the ease with which they talked to each other. And, being a modest man, he found himself ashamed. Why, in Heaven’s name, he thought, should he not find it good to talk to Raoul, who had an admirable mind and a simple approach? He thought: “We understand so little of our fellow creatures. Somewhere in Raoul there is a limitation but when it comes to the Oberons and Baradis he, probably by virtue of his limitation, is likely to be a much more useful judge than…”

“The Queen of Sheba,” Raoul fumed, “is a Biblical personage. She was the chère amie of the Lord’s anointed. To murder he adds a blasphemy which has not even the merit of being true. Unfortunately he is left-handed,” he added in a tone of acute disappointment.

“Exactly! Moreover he offered this information,” Alleyn pointed out. “One must remember the circumstances. The scene, real or simulated, reached its climax as the train drew up and stopped. The blind was released as the woman fell against it. And the man, not necessarily Oberon or Baradi, you know, saw other windows — those of the train.”

“So knowing Monsieur must have been in the train and awake, since he was to alight at Roqueville, this blasphemer produces his lies.”

“It might well be so. M. Dupont and I both incline to think so. Now, you see, don’t you, that if murder was done in that room in the early hours of this morning, we have great cause to revisit the Château. Not only to arrest a killer but to discover why he killed. Not only to arrest a purveyor of drugs who has caused many deaths but to discover his associates. And not only for these reasons but also to learn, if we can, what happens in the locked room on Thursday nights. For all these reasons, Raoul, it seems imperative that we visit the Château.”

“Well, Monsieur.”

“Two courses suggest themselves. I may return openly to enquire after the health of Mademoiselle Truebody. If I do this I shall have to admit that Ricky has been found.”

“They will have learned as much from the man Callard, Monsieur.”

“I am not so sure. This afternoon M. Dupont ordered that all outward calls from the factory should be blocked at central and that the Château should be cut off. At the Château they will be extremely anxious to avoid any sign that they are in touch with the factory. They will, of course, question Teresa, to whom we must give instructions. If I pursue our first course I shall tell the story of the finding of Ricky to Mr. Oberon and his guests and I shall utter many maledictions against Callard as a child-kidnapper. And, having seen Miss Truebody, I must appear to go away and somehow or another remain. I’ve no idea how this can be done. Perhaps, if one had a colleague within the place one might manage it. The alternative is for me, and you, Raoul, to go secretly to the Château. To do this we would again need a colleague who would admit and conceal us.”

Raoul put his head on one side with the air of a collector examining a doubtful treasure. “Monsieur refers, of course, to Teresa,” he said.

“I do.”

“Teresa,” Raoul continued anxiously, “has not displayed herself to advantage this afternoon. She was bouleversée and therefore behaved foolishly. Nevertheless, she is normally a girl of spirit. She is also at the present time desirous of reestablishing herself in my heart. Possibly I have been too lenient with her but one inclines to leniency where one’s affections are engaged. I have, as Monsieur knows, forbidden her return to this temple of shame. Nevertheless, where the cause is just and with the protection of Our Lady of Paysdoux (about whose patronage Teresa is so unbecomingly cocksure), there can be no sin.”