Ngaio Marsh - Color Scheme

He went into his room and they heard him shout for Colly.

Mr. Falls broke an awkward silence by saying: “What a very gay taste in shirts Mr. Eru Saul displays, doesn’t he?”

Eru, a desolate figure, had plodded up the drive as far as the last turn that was visible from the house. His puce-coloured sleeves were vivid in the sunlight.

Barbara leant out of the open window and said nervously: “He always wears that shirt. One wonders if it’s ever washed.”

Dikon, expecting Dr. Ackrington’s outburst to come at any moment, said hurriedly: “I know. He wore it on the day of Smith’s accident.”

“So he did.”

“No, he didn’t,” said the Colonel unexpectedly.

They stared at him. “But, Daddy, he did ,” said Barbara. “Don’t you remember he came into the dining-room to sort of confirm Mr. Smith’s account and he was wearing the pink shirt? Wasn’t he, Sim?”

“What the heck’s it matter?” Simon asked. “He was, as a matter of fact.”

“He couldn’t have been,” said the Colonel.

Dr. Ackrington began in a high voice, “In the name of all that’s futile, Edward, will you — ” and stopped short. “The shirt was pink,” he said loudly.

“No.”

“It was pink, Edward.”

“It couldn’t have been, James.”

Webley said heavily: “If you’ll excuse me I’ll get on with it,” and casting a disgusted look at the Colonel he returned to Questing’s room.

“I know it wasn’t pink,” the Colonel went on.

“Did you see the fellow’s shirt?”

“I suppose I must have, James. I don’t remember that, but I have it in my head that it was blue. People talked about the feller’s blue shirt.”

“Well, it wasn’t blue, Dad,‘* said Simon. ”It was that same godalmighty affair he’s got on now.”

“I don’t catch what people say, but I did catch that. Blue.”

“This is extremely interesting,” said Mr. Falls. “Here are three people swearing pink and one blue. What about you, Bell?”

“I’m on both sides,” said Dikon. “It was puce but I agree with the Colonel that Questing said it was blue.”

“It is extraordinary to me,” said Dr. Ackrington, “that you can all moon about, arguing like magpies over a perfectly footling affair, when the discovery of Questing’s body puts us all in a damned equivocal position.”

“I am interested in the man in the ambiguous shirt. Could we not have Mr. Smith’s opinion?” suggested Mr. Falls. “Where is he?”

Without moving, Simon yelled: “Hey, Bert!” and in due course Smith reappeared.

Mr. Falls said: “I wonder if you can settle an argument. Do you remember that on the evening of your escape from the train, Mr. Questing said that he left you to the attentions of a man in a blue shirt?”

“Uh?”

Mr. Falls repeated his question.

“That’d be Eru Saul. He brought me home. What of it?”

“Wearing a blue shirt?”

“Yeh, that’s right.”

“It was pink,” said Dr. Ackrington and Simon together.

“If Questing said it was blue it must’ve been blue,” said Smith crossly. “I was that knocked about I wouldn’t notice whether the man was wearing a pansy shirt or a pair of rompers. Yeh, I remember. It was blue.”

“You’re colour-blind,” said Simon. “It was pink.”

He and Smith argued hotly. Smith walked away muttering and Simon shouted after him. “You’re making out it was blue because he said it was blue. You’ll be telling us next he went to Pohutukawa Bay that afternoon, like he said he did.”

Smith stopped short. “So he did go to the Bay,” he yelled.

“Yeh? And when Uncle James said wasn’t it a pity the pootacows weren’t in bloom he said yes, too bad. And they were blazing there all the time.”

“He did go to the Bay. He took Huia. You ask Huia. Eru told me. So get to hell,” added Smith and disappeared.

“What do you know about that!” Simon demanded. “Here, do you reckon Eru changed his shirt in our kitchen? Or was it another man on the hill that Questing saw?”

“He did not go to Pohutukawa Bay,” said his uncle. “I bowled him over. I completely bowled him over. Huia !”

After a short delay Huia, still weeping, appeared in the doorway.

“What you want?” she sobbed.

“Did you go in Mr. Questing’s car to Pohutukawa Bay on the day when Smith was nearly run over?”

“I never do anything bad with him,” roared poor Huia, relapsing into pidgin English. “Only go for drive to te Bay and come back. Never stop te engine, all time.”

“Did you see the pootacows?” said Simon.

“How can we go to Pohutukawa Bay and not see pohutukawas ? Of course we see pohutukawas like blazes all over te shop.”

“Did Eru Saul change his shirt in the kitchen that night?”

“What te devil you ask me nex’! Let me catch him change his shirt in my kitchen.”

“Oh, gee!” said Simon disgustedly and Huia plunged back into the house.

“It must be nearly lunch time,” the Colonel remarked vaguely. He followed Huia indoors and shouted for his wife.

“This is a madhouse,” said Dr. Ackrington.

Webley came out of Questing’s room. “Mr. Bell,” he said, “may I trouble you, please?” iv

“I couldn’t feel more uncomfortable,” Dikon thought as he walked along the verandah, “if I’d killed poor old Questing myself. It’s extraordinary.”

Webley stood on one side at the door, followed Dikon inside and shut it. The blind was pulled down and the light was on so that Dikon was vividly reminded of his visit of the previous night. The pearl-grey worsted suit was still neatly disposed upon a chair. The ties and the puce-coloured pyjamas were in their former positions. Webley went to the dressing-table and took up an envelope. Dikon saw with astonishment that it was addressed to himself in the neat commercial script of Smith’s talisman.

“Before you open this, Mr. Bell, I’d like to have a witness.” He put his head round the door and mumbled inaudibly. Mr. Falls was cautiously admitted.

“A witness before or after the fact, Sergeant?” he asked archly.

“A witness to the fact, shall we say, sir?”

“But why in heaven’s name did he write to me?” Dikon murmured.

“That’s what we’ll find out, Mr. Bell. Will you open it?”

It was written in green ink on a sheet of business paper on which printed titles were set out, representing Mr. Questing as an indent agent and representative of several firms. It bore the date of the previous day and was headed: “Private and Confidential.”

Dear Mr. Bell [Dikon read],

You will be somewhat surprised to receive this communication. An unexpected cable necessitates my visiting Australia and I am leaving for Auckland first thing tomorrow morning to see about a passage by air. I shall not be returning for some little while.

Now, Mr. Bell, I should commence by telling you that I appreciate the very very happy little relationship that has obtained since I first had the pleasure of contacting you. The personal antagonism that I have encountered in other quarters has never entered into our acquaintance and I take this opportunity of thanking you for your courtesy. You will note that I have endorsed this letter p. and c. It is rather particularly so and I am sure I can rely upon you to keep the spirit of the endorsement. If you are not prepared to do so I will ask you to destroy this letter unread.

“I can’t go on with this,” said Dikon.

“If you don’t, sir, we will. He’s dead, remember.”

“Oh, hell!”

“You can read it to yourself if you like, Mr. Bell,” said Webley, keeping his eyes on Mr. Falls, “and then hand it over.”