Ngaio Marsh - Artists in Crime

“I am afraid that I am not fortunate enough to have a very obliging nature, Mr. Alleyn. And as for my movements, I always move as infrequently as possible, and never in the right direction.”

“London was, from your point of view, in the right direction on Friday afternoon.”

“You mean that by going to London I avoided any question of complicity in this unpleasant affair.”

“Not necessarily,” said Alleyn. Malmsley lit a cigarette. “However,” continued Alleyn, “you have already told us that you went to London by the six o’clock bus, at the end of an afternoon spent with Mr. Garcia in the studio.”

“I am absurdly communicative. It must be because I find my own conversation less tedious, as a rule, than the conversation of other people.”

“In that,” said Alleyn, “you are singularly fortunate.”

Malmsley raised his eyebrows.

“What did Mr. Garcia tell you about Mr. Pilgrim during your conversation in the studio?” asked Alleyn.

“About Pilgrim? Oh, he said that he thought Valmai would find Pilgrim a very boring companion. He was rather ridiculous and said that she would soon grow tired of Pilgrim’s good looks. I told him that it was much more likely that she would tire of Pilgrim’s virtue. Women dislike virtue in a husband almost as much as they enjoy infidelity.”

“Good Lord!” thought Alleyn. “He is late Victorian. This is Wilde and Water.”

“And then?” he said aloud.

“And then he said that Basil Pilgrim was not as virtuous as I thought. I said that I had not thought about it at all. ‘The superficial observer,’ I told him, ‘is the only observer who ever lights upon a profound truth.’ Don’t you agree with me, Mr. Alleyn?”

“Being a policeman, I am afraid I don’t. Did you pursue this topic?”

“No. I did not find it sufficiently entertaining. Garcia then invited me to speculate upon the chances of Seacliff’s virtue saying that he could astonish me on that subject if he had a mind to. I assured him that I was unable to fall into a ecstasy of wonderment on the upshot of what was, as I believe racing enthusiasts would say, a fifty-fifty chance. I found Garcia quite, quite tedious and pedestrian on the subject of Seacliff. He is very much attracted by Seacliff, and men are always more amusing when they praise women they dislike than when they abuse the women to whom they are passionately attracted. I therefore changed the topic of conversation.”

“To Sonia Gluck?”

“That would be quite brilliant of you, Inspector, if I had not mentioned previously that we spoke of Sonia Gluck.”

“That is almost the only feature of our previous conversation that I do remember, Mr. Malmsley. You told us that Garcia asked you if—” Alleyn consulted his note-book— “if you had ever felt like murdering your mistress just for the horror of doing it. How did you reply?”

“I replied that I had never been long enough attached to a woman for her to claim the title of my mistress. There is something dreadfully permanent in the sound of those two sibilants. However, the theme was a pleasant one and we embroidered it at our leisure. Garcia strolled across to my table and looked at my drawing. ‘It wouldn’t be worth it,’ he said. I disagreed with him. One exquisite pang of horror! ‘One has not experienced the full gamut of nervous luxury,’ I said, ‘until one has taken a life.’ He began to laugh and returned to his work.”

“Is he at all insane, do you think?”

“Insane? My dear Inspector, who can define the borders of * abnormality?”

“That is quite true,” said Alleyn patiently. “Would you say that Mr. Garcia is far from being abnormal?”

“Perhaps not.”

“Is he in the habit of taking drugs, do you know?”

Malmsley leant forward and dropped his cigarette on an ash-tray. He examined his jade rings and said:

“I really have no idea.”

“You have never noticed his eyes, for instance?” continued Alleyn, looking very fixedly into Malmsley’s. “One can usually tell, you know, by the eyes.”

“Really?”

“Yes. The pupils are contracted. Later on they occasionally become widely dilated. As you must have observed, Mr. Malmsley, when you have looked in a mirror.”

“You are wonderfully learned, Mr. Alleyn.”

“I ask you if, to your knowledge, Garcia has contracted this habit. I must warn you that a very thorough search will be made of all the rooms in this house. Whether I think it advisable to take further steps in following up evidence that is not relevant to this case, may depend largely upon your answer.”

Malmsley looked quickly from Fox to Nigel.

“These gentlemen are with me on this case,” said Alleyn. “Come now, Mr. Malmsley, unless you wish to indulge the — what was Mr. Malmsley’s remark about nervous enjoyment, Bathgate?”

Nigel looked at his notes.

“The full gamut of nervous luxury?” he said.

“That’s it. Unless you feel like experiencing the full gamut of such nervous luxury as police investigations can provide, you will do well to answer my question.”

“He could not afford it,” said Malmsley. “He is practically living on charity.”

“Have you ever treated him to — let us say — to a pipe of opium?”

“I decline to answer this question.”

“You are perfectly within your rights. I shall obtain a search-warrant and examine your effects.”

Malmsley shrank a little in his chair.

“That would be singularly distasteful to me,” he said. “I am fastidious in the matter of guests.”

“Was Garcia one of your guests?”

“And if he was? After all, why should I hesitate? Your methods are singularly transparent, Inspector. You wish to know if I have ever amused myself by exploring the pleasures of opium. I have done so. A friend has given me a very beautiful set in jade and ivory, and I have not been so churlish as to neglect its promise of enjoyment. On the other hand, I have not allowed myself to contract a habit. In point of fact, I have not used half the amount that was given to me. I am not a creature of habit.”

“Did you invite Garcia to smoke opium?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Last Friday afternoon.”

“At last,” said Alleyn. “Where did you smoke your opium?”

“In the studio.”

“Where you were safe from interruption?”

“Where we were more comfortable.”

“You had the six o’clock bus to catch. Surely you felt disinclined to make the trip up to London?”

Malmsley moved restlessly.

“As a matter of fact,” he said, “I did not smoke a full pipe. I did not wish to. I merely started one and gave it to Garcia.”

“How many pipes did you give him?”

“Only one.”

“Very well. You will now, if you please, give us an exact account of the manner in which you spent your afternoon. You went to the studio immediately after lunch. Was Garcia there?”

“Yes. He had just got there.”

“How long was it before you gave him opium?”

“My dear Inspector, how should I know? I should imagine it was round about four o’clock.”

“After your conversation about the model and so on?”

“It followed our conversation. We discussed pleasure. That led us to opium.”

“So you went to the house and fetched your jade and ivory paraphernalia?”

“Ah — yes.”

“In your first account you may remember that you told me you did not leave the studio until it was time to change and catch your bus?”

“Did I? Perhaps I did. I suppose I thought that the opium incident would over-excite you.”

“When you finally left the studio,” said Alleyn, “what was Mr. Garcia’s condition?”

“He was very tranquil.”