Ngaio Marsh - Death in a White Tie

“You didn’t glance at the clock on the mantelpiece there?”

Again the General became acutely self-conscious.

“I may have done so. I fancy I did. Matter of fact, I remember now I did doze off and woke with a bit of a start. The fire had gone out. It was devilish chilly.” He glared at Alleyn and then said abruptly: “I felt wretchedly down in the mouth. I’m getting an old fellow nowadays and I don’t enjoy the small hours. As you say, I looked at the clock. It was half-past two. I sat there in this chair trying to make up my mind to go to bed. Couldn’t. So I took a walk round the Square.”

“Now that’s excellent, sir. You may be able to give us the very piece of information we’re after. Did you by chance notice anybody hanging about in the Square?”

“No.”

“Did you meet anybody at all?”

“Constable.”

Alleyn glanced at Fox.

“PC Titheridge,” said Fox. “We’ve got his report, sir.”

“All right,” said Alleyn. “Were people beginning to leave Marsdon House when you passed, sir?”

The General muttered something about “might have been,” paused for a moment and then said: “It was devilish murky. Couldn’t see anything.”

“A misty night; yes,” said Alleyn. “Did you happen to notice Captain Maurice Withers in the mist?”

“No!” yelled the General with extraordinary vehemence. “No, I did not. I don’t know the feller. No!”

There was an uncomfortable pause and then the General said: “Afraid that’s all I can tell you. When I got in again I went straight to bed.”

“Your wife had not returned?”

“No,” said the General very loudly. “She had not.”

Alleyn waited for a moment and then he said:

“Thank you very much, sir. Now, we’ll prepare a statement from the notes Inspector Fox has taken, and if you’ve no objection, we’ll get you to sign it.”

“I — um — um — um — I’ll have a look at it.”

“Yes. And now, if I may, I’d like to have a word with Mrs Halcut-Hackett.”

Up went the General’s chin again. For a moment Alleyn wondered if they were in for another outburst. But the General said: “Very good. I’ll tell her,” and marched out of the room.

“Crikey!” said Fox.

“That’s Halcut-Hackett, that was,” said Alleyn. “Why the devil,” he added rubbing his nose, “why the devil is the funny old article in such a stew over his walk round the Square?”

“Seems a natural thing for a gentleman of his kind to do,” Fox ruminated. “I’m sure I don’t know. I should have thought he’s the sort that breaks the ice on the Serpentine every morning as well as walking round the Square every night.”

“He’s a damn bad liar, poor old boy. Or is he a poor old boy? Is he not perhaps a naughty old boy? Blast! Why the devil couldn’t he give us a nice straight cast-iron alibi? Poking his nose into Belgrave Square; can’t tell us exactly when or exactly why or for exactly how long. What did the PC say?”

“Said he’d noticed nothing at all suspicious. Never mentioned the General. I’ll have a word with Mr PC Titheridge about this.”

“The General is probably a stock piece if he walks round Belgrave Square every night,” said Alleyn.

“Yes, but not at half-past two in the morning,” objected Fox.

“Quite right, Fox, quite right. Titheridge must be blasted. What the devil was old Halcut-Hackett up to last night! We can’t let it go, you know, because, after all, if he suspects—”

Alleyn broke off. He and Fox stood up as Mrs Halcut-Hackett made her entrance.

Alleyn, of course, had met her before, on the day she came to his office with the story of Mrs X and the blackmailing letters. He reflected now that in a sense she had started the whole miserable business. “If it hadn’t been for this hard, wary, stupid woman’s visit,” he thought, “I shouldn’t have asked Bunchy to poke his head into a deathtrap. Oh, God!” Mrs Halcut-Hackett said:

“Why, Inspector, they didn’t tell me it was you. Now, do you know I never realized, that day I called about my poor friend’s troubles, that I was speaking to Lady Alleyn’s famous son.”

Inwardly writhing under this blatant recognition of his snob-value Alleyn shook hands and instantly introduced Fox to whom Mrs Halcut-Hackett was insufferably cordial. They all sat down. Alleyn deliberately waited for a moment or two before he spoke. He looked at Mrs Halcut-Hackett. He saw that under its thick patina of cream and rouge her face was sagging from the bones of her skull. He saw that her eyes and her hands were frightened.

He said: “I think we may as well begin with that same visit to the Yard. The business we talked about on that occasion seems to be linked with the death of Lord Robert Gospell.”

She sat there, bolt upright in her expensive stays and he knew she was terrified.

“But,” she said, “that’s absurd. No, honestly, Mr Alleyn, I just can’t believe there could be any possible connection. Why, my friend—”

“Mrs Halcut-Hackett,” said Alleyn, “I am afraid we must abandon your friend.”

She shot a horrified glance at Fox, and Alleyn answered it.

“Mr Fox is fully acquainted with the whole story,” he said. “He agrees with me that your friend had better dissolve. We realize that beyond all doubt you yourself were the victim of these blackmailing letters. There is no need for you to feel particularly distressed over this. It is much better to tackle this sort of thing without the aid of an imaginary Mrs X. She makes for unnecessary confusion. We now have the facts—”

“But — how do you —?”

Alleyn decided to take a risk. It was a grave risk.

“I have already spoken to Captain Withers,” he said.

“ My God, has Maurice confessed ?”

Fox’s notebook dropped to the floor.

Alleyn, still watching the gaping mouth with its wet red margin, said: “Captain Withers has confessed nothing.” And he thought: “Does she realize the damage she’s done?”

“But I don’t mean that,” Mrs Halcut-Hackett gabbled. “I don’t mean that. It’s not that. You must be crazy. He couldn’t have done it.” She clenched her hands and drummed with her fists on the arms of the chair. “What did he tell you?”

“Very little I’m afraid. Still we learned at least that it was not impossible—”

“You must be crazy to think he did it. I tell you he couldn’t do it.”

“He couldn’t do what, Mrs Halcut-Hackett?” asked Alleyn.

“The thing — Lord Robert…” She gaped horridly and then with a quick and vulgar gesture, covered her mouth with her ringed hand. Horrified intelligence looked out of her eyes.

“What did you think Captain Withers had confessed?”

“Nothing to do with this. Nothing that matters to anyone but me. I didn’t mean a thing by it. You’ve trapped me. It’s not fair.”

“For your own sake,” said Alleyn, “you would be wise to try to answer me. You say you did not mean to ask if Captain Withers had confessed to murder. Very well, I accept that for the moment. What might he have confessed? That he was the author of the letter your blackmailer had threatened to use. Is that it?”

“I won’t answer. I won’t say anything more. You’re trying to trap me.”

“What conclusion am I likely to draw from your refusal to answer? Believe me, you take a very grave risk if you refuse.”

“Have you told my husband about the letter?”

“No. Nor shall I do so if it can be avoided. Come now.” Alleyn deliberately drew all his power of concentration to a fine point. He saw his dominance drill like a sort of mental gimlet through her flabby resistance. “Come now. Captain Withers is the author of this letter. Isn’t he?”