Ngaio Marsh - Death in a White Tie

He took half a dozen steps, pulled up short, and glared at Alleyn and Fox. He looked awful. His eyes were bloodshot and his face pallid.

He said: “Where’s my mother?”

Alleyn said: “Agatha Troy’s looking after her. I want to speak to you.”

“I want to see my mother.”

“You’ll have to wait,” said Alleyn.

Donald Potter sat on a chair facing the window. Alleyn was at Lord Robert’s desk. Fox sat in the window, his notebook on his knee, his pencil in his hand. Donald lit one cigarette from the butt of another. His fingers shook.

“Before we begin,” said Alleyn, “I should like to make one point quite clear to you. Your uncle has been murdered. The circumstances under which he was murdered oblige us to go most thoroughly into the movements of every person who was near to him within an hour of his death. We shall also find it necessary to make exhaustive enquiries into his private affairs, his relationship with members of his own family, and his movements, conversation and interests during the last weeks or perhaps months of his life. Nothing will be sacred. You, of course, are most anxious that his murderer should be arrested?”

Alleyn paused. Donald wetted his lips and said:

“Naturally.”

“Naturally. You will therefore give us all the help you can at no matter what cost to yourself?”

“Of course.”

“You will understand, I am sure, that everything the police do is done with one purpose only. If some of our enquiries seem impertinent or irrelevant that cannot be helped. We must do our job.”

“Need we go into all this?” said Donald.

“I hope it has been quite unnecessary. When did you last speak to your uncle?”

“About ten days ago.”

“When did you leave this house?”

“On the same day,” said Donald breathlessly.

“You left as the result of a misunderstanding with your uncle?”

“Yes.”

“I’m afraid I shall have to ask you to tell me about it.”

“I — it’s got nothing to do with this — this awful business. It’s not too pleasant to remember. I’d rather not—”

“You see,” said Alleyn, “there was some point in my solemn opening speech.” He got up and reached out a long hand, and touched Donald’s shoulder. “Come,” he said. “I know it’s not easy.”

“It wasn’t that I didn’t like him.”

“I can’t believe anyone could dislike him. What was the trouble? Your debts?”

“Yes.”

“Then why did you quarrel?”

“He wanted me to go to Edinburgh to take my medical.”

“And you didn’t want to go?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I thought it would be so damned dull. I wanted to go to Thomas’s. He had agreed to that.”

Alleyn returned to his seat at the desk. “What made him change his mind?” he asked.

“This business about my debts.”

“Nothing else?”

Donald ground out his cigarette with a trembling hand and shook his head.

“Did he object to any of your friends, for instance?” Alleyn asked.

“I — well, he may have thought — I mean, it wasn’t that.”

“Did he know you were acquainted with Captain Maurice Withers?”

Donald darted a glance of profound astonishment at Alleyn, opened his mouth, shut it again, and finally said:

“I think so.”

“Aren’t you certain?”

“He knew I was friendly with Withers. Yes.”

“Did he object to this friendship?”

“He did say something, now I come to think about it.”

“It didn’t leave any particular impression on you?”

“Oh, no,” said Donald.

Alleyn brought his hand down sharply on Lord Robert’s cheque book.

“Then, I take it,” he said, “you have forgotten a certain cheque for fifty pounds.”

Donald stared at the long thin hand lying across the blue cover. A dull flush mounted to the roots of his hair.

“No,” he said, “I remember.”

“Did he pay this amount to Withers on your behalf?”

“Yes.”

“And yet it left no particular impression on you?”

“There were,” said Donald, “so many debts.”

“Your uncle knew you were friendly with this man. He had certain information about him. I know that. I ask you whether, in fact, he did not object most strongly to your connection with Withers?”

“If you like to put it that way.”

“For God’s sake,” said Alleyn, “don’t hedge with me. I want to give you every chance.”

“ You — don’t — think — I ”

“You’re his heir. You quarrelled with him. You’ve been in debt. You are sharing rooms with a man against whom he warned you. You’re in no position to try and save your face over smaller matters. You want to spare your mother as much as possible, don’t you? Of course you do, and so do I. I ask you most earnestly as a friend, which I should not do, to tell me the whole truth.”

“Very well,” said Donald.

“You’re living in the same flat as Captain Withers. What have you been doing there?”

“I — we — I was waiting to see if I couldn’t perhaps go to Thomas’s, after all.”

“How could you afford to do that?

“My mother would have helped me. I’ve got my prelim, and I thought if I read a bit and tried to earn a bit, later on I could start.”

“How did you propose to earn a bit?”

“Wits was helping me — Captain Withers, I mean. He’s been perfectly splendid. I don’t care what anybody says about him, he’s not a crook.”

“What suggestions did he make?”

Donald fidgeted.

“Oh, nothing definite. We were going to talk it over.”

“I see. Is Captain Withers doing a job of work himself?”

“Well, not exactly. He’s got a pretty decent income, but he’s thinking of doing something one of these days. He hates being idle, really.”

“Will you tell me, please, why you were in debt to him for fifty pounds?”

“I — simply owed it to him.”

“Evidently. For what? Was it a bet?”

“Yes. Well, one or two side bets, actually.”

“On what — horses?”

“Yes,” said Donald quickly.

“Anything else?”

Silence.

“Anything else?”

“No. I mean… I can’t remember exactly.”

“You must remember. Was it at poker? Cards of any sort?”

“Yes, poker.”

“There’s something else,” said Alleyn. “Donald, I can’t exaggerate the harm you may do if you insist on hedging with us. Don’t you see that with every fresh evasion you put your friend in an even more dubious light than the one in which he already appears? For God’s sake think of your uncle’s death and your mother’s sensibilities and your own foolish skin. How else did you lose money to Captain Withers?”

Alleyn watched Donald raise his head, knit his brows, and put his fingers to his lips. His eyes were blank but they were fixed on Alleyn’s and presently an expression of doubtful astonishment crept into them.

“I don’t know what to do,” he said naïvely.

“You mean you owe something to Withers. You have made some promise, I suppose. Is that it?”

“Yes.”

“To me the young men of your generation are rather bewildering. You seem to be a great deal more knowing then we were and yet I swear I would never have been taken in by a flashy gentleman with persuasive manners and no occupation, unless running an illicit hole-and-corner casino may be called an occupation.”

“I never mentioned roulette,” said Donald in a hurry.

“It is indeed a shame to take your money,” rejoined Alleyn.

Fox gave a curious little cough and turned a page of his notebook.

Alleyn said: “Has Captain Withers, by any chance, suggested that you should earn an honest penny by assisting him?”