Ngaio Marsh - Artists in Crime

“Afraid I can’t. It’s a damn’ bad show. I feel rotten about it.”

“Why?”

“Well, wouldn’t anybody? It’s a foul thing to happen, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes — perfectly abominable. I meant, had you any personal reason for feeling rotten about it?”

“Not more than any of the others,” said Pilgrim after a pause.

“Is that quite true, Mr. Pilgrim?”

“What do you mean?” Again he looked from Alleyn to Fox. He had gone very white.

“I mean this. Had Sonia Gluck no closer link with you than with the rest of the class?”

If Pilgrim had been restless before, he was now very still. He stared straight in front of him, his lips parted, and his brows slightly raised.

“I see I shall have to make a clean breast of it,” he said at last.

“I think you would be wise to do so.”

“It’s got nothing to do with this business,” he said. “Unless Garcia knew and was furious about it. My God, I don’t know what put you on to this, but I’m not sure it won’t be a relief to talk about it. Ever since this morning when she was killed, I’ve been thinking of it. I’d have told you at once if I’d thought it had any bearing on the case, but I–I didn’t want Valmai to know. It happened three months ago. Before I met Valmai. I was at a studio party in Bloomsbury and she — Sonia — was there. Everyone got pretty tight. She asked me to drive her back to her room and then she asked me if I wouldn’t come in for a minute. Well — I did. It was the only time. I got a damned unpleasant surprise when I found she was the model here. I didn’t say anything to her and she didn’t say anything to me. That’s all.”

“What about the child?” asked Alleyn.

“God! Then she did tell somebody?”

“She told you, at all events.”

“I don’t believe it’s true. I don’t believe the child was mine. Everybody knows what sort of girl she was. Poor little devil! I don’t want to blackguard her after this has happened, but I can see what you’re driving at now, and it’s a serious business for me. If I’d thought the child was my affair, I’d have looked after Sonia, but everybody knows she’s been Garcia’s mistress for months. She was poisonously jealous of Valmai, and after our engagement was announced she threatened this as a hit at Valmai.”

“How was the matter first broached?”

“She left a note in the pocket of my painting-coat. I don’t know how long it had been there. I burnt it. She said she wanted me to meet her somewhere.”

“Did you do this?”

“Yes. I met her in the studio one evening. It was pretty ghastly.”

“What happened?”

“She said she was going to have a baby. She said I was the father. I said I didn’t believe it. I knew she was lying, and I told her I knew. I said I’d tell Valmai the whole story myself and I said I’d go to Garcia and tell him. She seemed frightened. That’s all that happened.”

“Are you sure of that?”

“Yes. What d’you mean? Of course I’m sure.”

“She didn’t try blackmail? She didn’t say she would go to Miss Seacliff with this story or, if that failed, she didn’t threaten to appeal to your father?”

“She said all sorts of things. She was hysterical. I don’t remember everything she said. She didn’t know what she was talking about.”

“Surely you would remember if she threatened to go to your father?”

“I don’t think she did say she’d do that. Anyway, if she had it wouldn’t have made any difference. He couldn’t force me to marry her, I know that sounds pretty low, but, you see, I knew the whole thing was a bluff. It was all so foul and squalid. I was terrified someone would hear her or something. I just walked away.”

“Did she carry out any of her threats?”

“No.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, I’d have heard pretty soon if she’d said anything to my father.”

“Then she did threaten to tell your father?”

“God damn you, I tell you I don’t remember what she threatened.”

“Did you give her any money?”

Pilgrim moved his head restlessly.

“I advise you to answer me, Mr. Pilgrim.”

“I needn’t answer anything. I can get a lawyer.”

“Certainly. Do you wish to do that?”

Pilgrim opened his mouth and shut it again. He frowned to himself as if he thought very deeply, and at last he seemed to come to a decision. He looked from Alleyn to Fox and suddenly he smiled.

“Look here,” he said, “I didn’t kill that girl. I couldn’t have killed her. The Parkers and Valmai will tell you I spent Friday night with them. My father and everyone else at Ankerton knows I was there on Saturday. I hadn’t a chance to rig the knife. I suppose there’s no reason why I should shy off talking about this business with Sonia except that — well, when there’s a crime like this in the air one’s apt to get nervous.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“You know all about my father, I expect. He’s been given a good deal of publicity. Some bounder of a journalist wrote a lot of miserable gup in one of the papers the other day. The Methodist Peer and all that. Everyone knows he’s a bit fantastic on the subject of morals, and if he ever got to hear of this business there’d be a row of simply devastating magnitude. That’s why I didn’t want it to leak out. He’d do some tremendous heavy father stuff at me, and have a stroke on top of it as likely as not. That’s why I didn’t want to say any more about it than I could possibly help. I see now that I’ve been a fool not to tell you the whole thing.”

“Good,” said Alleyn.

“As a matter of fact I did give Sonia a cheque for a hundred, and she promised she’d make no more scenes. In the end she practically admitted the child was not mine, but,” he smiled ruefully, “as she pointed out, she had a perfectly good story to tell my father or Valmai if she felt inclined to do so.”

“Have you made a clean breast of this to Miss Seacliff?”

“No. I–I—couldn’t do that. It seems so foul to go to her with a squalid little story when we were just engaged. You see, I happen to feel rather strongly about — well, about some things. I rather disliked myself for what had happened. Valmai’s so marvelous.” His face lit up with a sudden intensity of emotion. He seemed translated. “She’s so far beyond all that kind of thing. She’s terribly, terribly attractive — you only had to see how the other men here fell for her — but she remains quite aloof from her own loveliness. Just accepts it as something she can’t help and then ignores it. It’s amazing that she should care—” He stopped short. “I don’t know that we need discuss all this.”

“I don’t think we need. I shall ask you later on to sign a statement of your own movements from Friday to Sunday.”

“Will the Sonia business have to come out, sir?”

“I can promise nothing about that. If it is irrelevant it will not be used. I think it advisable that you should tell Miss Seacliff, but that, of course, is entirely a matter of your own judgment.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Possibly not. There’s one other question. Did you return to the studio on Friday before you left for Boxover?”

“No. I packed my suit-case after lunch. Young Hatchett came in and talked to me while I was at it. Then I called Valmai and we set off in the car.”

“I see. Thank you. I won’t keep you any longer, Mr. Pilgrim.”

“Very well, sir. Thank you.”

Fox showed Pilgrim out and returned to the fire. He looked dubious. Nigel reappeared and sat on the wide fender.

“Well, Fox,” said Alleyn, raising an eyebrow, “what did you think of that?”

“His ideas on the subject of his young lady seem a bit high-flown from what we’ve seen of her,” said Fox.