Ngaio Marsh - Death In Ecstasy

Maurice stood on the far side of the table. His face was ashen. A lock of hair had fallen across his forehead. He looked impossibly melodramatic. He seemed to have come to the end of a speech, interrupted perhaps by the hubbub that had broken out among the other Initiates. Miss Wade’s hat bobbed and bobbed. A dark object momentarily hid this picture. Someone was standing just on the other side of the door. It was on this person Maurice had fixed his gaze. Whoever it was moved again and the picture reappeared in a flash. Mr. Ogden’s voice sounded close to Nigel’s ear.

“The kid’s crazy. Sit down, Pringle.”

“Go on, Maurice,” said Janey clearly from somewhere.

“Courage, my dear lad,” boomed Father Garnette with something of his old unctuousness.

Maurice jerked his head as though he had been struck.

“For God’s sake don’t start that stuff again or I’ll let them hang you. Don’t imagine I still worship at your shrine. I know what you’re like now; I think I’ve known for a long time. A little bit of bloody Brummagen. I’ve let myself be ruined aesthetically and, if you like, morally, for a plaster reproduction that wouldn’t take in a housemaid. If I let them get you I’d be helping at a bit of spring-cleaning. God knows why I’m doing this. That’s not true, either. I’m doing it because I can’t help myself.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Pringle? You’re dopey.”

“Dopey!” He turned to stare again at the hidden Ogden. “For the first time in six months I’m not more or less doped. For Christ’s sake let’s speak the truth. Dope! Half of us are soaked in it. Dagmar, Cara, Me! You two bloody little pansies. You’ve been experimenting, haven’t you? Just trying to see what it’s like. Dear Father Garnette’s been giving you cigarettes. And where does dear Father Garnette get his heroin? You none of you know. He doesn’t know himself. He knows it comes from Paris through an agent in Seven Dials. He doesn’t know who the agent is. I do.”

“He’s mad,” screamed Mrs. Candour.

“Sure, he’s crazy,” said Mr. Ogden soothingly. “You don’t want to get this way, Dagmar.”

A slight movement beside Nigel caused him to turn. Alleyn had opened the door a little wider and now slid in behind the curtain.

“I’m sane, and there’s one of you who knows it. Keep still, all of you. I’m going to tell you what happened here on Sunday afternoon.”

“By all means,” said de Ravigne softly, “let us hear.”

“I came here on Sunday afternoon to pick up a packet of stuff Garnette had arranged to let me have. Cigarettes aren’t good enough for me. I need more than the rest of you. This lot cost me ten pounds. Father Garnette has spiritual qualms about handing it over. Haven’t you, Father? It makes him feel self-conscious, you know. So he leaves it in his little bedside cupboard and I get it for myself and plant the cash. He says heroin helps to divorce the psyche from the body. I came here some time after half-past two. Jane and I had had a row and I needed the stuff. I came in at the front door and went through here into the bedroom. I’d just got the stuff and was going when I heard someone come out of the temple into this room. It wasn’t our spiritual father. I know his step.”

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake—”

“Go on, Maurice.”

“Yes, Jane. Let me alone. I didn’t quite like to reveal myself. It looked a bit queer my being there. I hesitated. Then I heard a click. Then two or three clicks. It dawned on me that someone was monkeying with the safe. The door wasn’t quite shut, I looked through and saw who it was. It was—”

“I’m chairman of this meeting and I’m not standing for this. It’s out of order. Sit down!”

“No.”

“ Sit down !”

“By God, if you don’t shut up yourself I’ll make you.”

“Yeah? You and who else?”

“Me,” said Alleyn. “You’re covered, Mr. Ogden.”

Chief Detective-Inspector Alleyn once confessed to Nigel Bathgate that he enjoyed a dramatic close to a big case. “It casts,” he explained, “a spurious but acceptable glamour over the more squalid aspect of my profession.” In the case of Cara Quayne this preference must have been gratified. The close could scarcely have been more dramatic.

At the precise moment when Alleyn gripped his arms from behind, Ogden had reached for his gun, whether to shoot Pringle or himself, will never be known. At that same moment Detective-Sergeant Bailey came in from Garnette’s bedroom, followed by two other officers. Bailey, looking liverish, carried an automatic. Ogden struggled savagely for about a minute. They had to handcuff him. Then Alleyn charged him. Mrs. Candour, seconded by Claude and Lionel, screamed steadily throughout this performance and fainted, unnoticed, at the end of it. The others were silent. Ogden did not speak until they told him to come away. Then he twisted round and confronted Pringle.

“Let him finish,” he said. “He’s got nothing I can’t answer. Let him finish.”

Maurice glanced at Alleyn, who nodded. Maurice turned his eyes toward Ogden, and began to speak.

“I saw you at the safe. You had just opened it. You had the bonds in your hand. Or rather you had the faked packet, I suppose. Then Cara came in quietly. She asked you what you were doing with the bonds. You told her Garnette had said you were to look at them. She just stared at you. I think you knew she didn’t believe you because almost at once you began to talk about the stuff, heroin.”

He paused for a second, moistened his lips, and looked at Alleyn.

“He said he knew she was at it. He asked her if she would miss it very much if she couldn’t get any more. He was very genial and friendly and said he felt like taking her into his confidence. Then he told her about the place in Seven Dials where Garnette got the stuff. He said quite calmly that he owned the racket. It would just be a little secret between himself and Cara, he said, and even Garnette himself didn’t know he had anything to do with it. Then, when Cara said nothing, he added that it would be just too bad if anyone got curious about him because if he was put in an awkward position he’d have to come across with the whole story and then — He made it quite clear that if she gave him away he’d drag her name in and Garnette’s as well. All of us. He told her that a word from him about her would cut her off from all chance of supply. He had only to suggest she was an agent of the police and no one would sell it to her. While he was talking he put the packet back in the safe. He said: ‘So that’s O.K.’ His back was turned while he re-locked the safe and I think it was then she wrote that note you found — it was only a few words — and put it in the cigarette-box, because I heard the lid drop and then a match was struck. She took a cigarette and lit it. All that time she said nothing. Just before she went away, he said very softly: ‘And if that isn’t enough — well, it’d be too bad if we had to look around for another Chosen Vessel.’ There was a long silence after that. Then, Cara said loudly: ‘I shall tell Father Garnette what you have done.’ Ogden said: ‘No you won’t, Cara.’ Without another word she went away. I realised he might come through into the bedroom and I got out by the back door.”

“Why did you say nothing of all this?” demanded de Ravigne.

“Because I’m a bloody skunk,” answered Maurice immediately. “Because I hadn’t got as much courage as she had, if you want to know. I was in the same boat. I’ve got to have the stuff. I’d go mad without it. I thought he’d put the bonds back. When I found he hadn’t it didn’t make any difference. I’ve got to have it. God, can’t you understand?”