Ngaio Marsh - Death in a White Tie

“I can’t answer any more questions about him,” said Donald in a high voice. He looked as if he would either fly into a violent rage or burst into tears.

“Very well,” said Alleyn. “When did you hear of this tragedy?”

“This morning when the sporting edition came in.”

“About an hour and a half ago?”

“Yes.”

“How long does it take to get here from Captain Withers’s flat? It’s in Sling Street, Chelsea, isn’t it? About five minutes’ walk. Why were you so long coming here?”

“I wasn’t dressed, and though you may not believe it, I got a shock when I heard of my uncle’s death.”

“No doubt. So did your mother. I wonder she didn’t ring you up.”

“The telephone’s disconnected,” said Donald.

“Indeed? Why is that?”

“I forgot to pay the bloody bill. Wits left it to me. I rang her from a call-box.”

“I see. Fox, one of our men is out there. Ask him to go to one hundred and ten Grandison Mansions, Sling Street, and tell Captain Withers I shall call on him in a few minutes and will be obliged if he remains indoors.”

“Very good, Mr Alleyn,” said Fox, and went out.

“Now then,” Alleyn continued. “I understand you were among the last to leave Marsdon House this morning. Correct?”

“Yes.”

“I want you to tell me exactly what happened just before you left. Come now, will you try to give me a clear account?”

Donald looked slightly more at his ease. Fox came back and resumed his seat.

“I’ll try, certainly,” said Donald. “Where do you want me to begin?”

“From the moment when you came into the hall to go out.”

“I was with Bridget O’Brien. I had the last dance with her and then we went into the buffet downstairs for soup.”

“Anybody else there?”

“Her stepfather. I said good night to him and then Bridgie and I went into the hall.”

“Who was in the hall?”

“I don’t remember except—”

“Yes?”

“Uncle Bunch was there.”

“Did you speak to him?”

“No, I wish to God I had.”

“What was he doing?”

“He had his cloak on. You know that extraordinary garment he wears? I think I heard him asking people if they’d seen Mrs Halcut-Hackett.”

“Had you seen her?”

“Not for some time, I think.”

“So you remember nobody in the hall except your uncle and Miss O’Brien?”

“That’s right. I said good night to Bridgie and went away.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

“Captain Withers was not at the ball?”

“Yes, but he’d gone.”

“Why did you not go away together?”

“Wits was going on somewhere. He had a date.”

“Do you know where he went and with whom?”

“No.”

“When you left Marsdon House what did you do?”

“Some people waiting outside for a taxi asked me to go on with them to the Sauce Boat, but I didn’t want to. To get rid of them I walked to the corner to look for a taxi.”

“Which corner?”

“First on the left as you come out of Marsdon House. Belgrave Road, I think it is.”

“Anyone see you?”

“I don’t know. Shouldn’t think so. There was a damned heavy mist lying like a blanket over everything.”

“We’ll have to find your taxi.”

“But I didn’t get a taxi.”

“What!”

Donald began to speak rapidly, his words tumbling over each other, as though he had suddenly opened all the doors of his thoughts.

“There wasn’t a taxi at the corner, so I walked. I walked on and on through Eaton Square. It was late — after three o’clock. Lots of taxis passed me, of course, but they were all engaged. I was thinking about things. About Bridget. I meant to keep her out of this but I suppose you’ll hear everything now. Everything will be dragged out and — and made to look awful. Bridgie, and — and Uncle Bunch — and taking my medical — and everything. I hardly noticed where I was going. It’s queer walking through mist. Your footsteps sound odd. Everything seemed thin and simple. I can’t describe it. I went on and on and presently there weren’t any more taxis and I was in the Kings Road so I just walked home. Past the Chelsea Palace and then off to the right into Sling Street. That’s all.”

“Did you meet anyone?”

“I suppose I must have met a few people. I didn’t notice.”

“What time did you get home?”

“I didn’t notice.”

Alleyn looked gravely at him.

“I want you, please, to try very hard to remember if you met anybody on that walk, particularly in the early stages, just after you left Marsdon House. I see no reason why I should not point out the importance of this. As far as we can make out your uncle left the house a few minutes after you did. He, too, walked a short way round the square. He hailed a taxi and was joined at the last minute by a man in evening dress who got into the taxi with him. It is the identity of this man that we are anxious to establish.”

“You can’t think I would do it!” Donald said. “You can’t! You’ve been our friend. You can’t treat me like this, as though I was just anybody under suspicion. You know us! Surely to God —!”

Alleyn’s voice cut coldly across his protestations.

“I am an investigating officer employed by the police. I must behave as if I had no friends while I am working on this case. If you think for a little you will see that this must be so. At the risk of sounding pompous I must go a bit further and tell you that if I found my friendship with your uncle, your mother, or yourself, was in any way influencing my conduct of this case I should be obliged to give up. Ask to be relieved of the job. Already I have spoken to you as a friend — I should not have done this. If you are innocent, you are in no danger unless you prevaricate or shift ground, particularly in matters relating to your acquaintance with Captain Withers.”

“You can’t suspect Withers! Why should he want to kill Uncle Bunch? It’s got nothing to do with him.”

“In that case he has nothing to fear.”

“On that account, of course, he hasn’t. I mean — oh, hell!”

“Where were you when you lost this money to him?”

“In a private house.”

“Where was it?”

“Somewhere near Leatherhead. Shackleton House, I think it’s called.”

“Was it his house?”

“Ask him. Ask him . Why do you badger me with all this! My God, isn’t it enough that I should be faced with the other business! I can’t stand any more. Let me out of this.”

“You may go, certainly. There will be a statement for you to sign later on.”

Donald got up and walked to the door. He turned and faced Alleyn.

“I’m as anxious as you,” he said, “that the man should be caught. Naturally, I’m as anxious as anybody.”

“Good,” said Alleyn.

Donald’s face was puckered into the sort of grimace a small boy makes when he is trying not to cry. For some reason this gave him a strong look of his uncle. Alleyn felt his heart turn over. He got up, crossed the room in six long strides, and took Donald roughly by the arm.

“There!” he said, “if you’re innocent you’re safe. As for this other mess you’ve got yourself into, stick to the truth and we’ll do what we can for you. Tell your mama the house is rid of us for the time being. Now, march!”

He turned Donald round, shoved him through the door, and slammed it behind him.

“Come on, Fox,” he said. “Pack up those things — the will and the notes. Ring up the Yard and see if the post-mortem report is through, tell them to look Withers up in the record, and if one of my men is free, send him straight off to Shackleton House, Leatherhead. He’d better take a search-warrant, but he’s not to use it without ringing me up first. If the place is locked up he’s to stay there and report to me by telephone. Tell him we want evidence of a gambling hell. Fix that while I see the men outside and then we’ll be off.”