Ngaio Marsh - Enter A Murderer

“Not a bit. So glad you were able to come. I must do a job of work before I go to bed.”

“What’s this — what’s this?”

“Story for my paper. It’s a scoop.”

“You’ll bring whatever gup you write to me in the morning, young fella.”

“Oh, I say, Alleyn!” Nigel protested.

“Yes, indeed. I’d forgotten your horrible evening shocker. The officer outside has turned away a collection of your boy friends already.”

“Well, let me do a bit. It’s a scoop — really it is.”

“Bring it to my study tomorrow morning, sir.”

“Oh, all right.”

Alleyn assembled his men and they filed out of the stage door. The lights were turned off.

“A final black-out,” said Alleyn’s voice in the dark.

The stage of the Unicorn was completely silent and quite given over to the memory of dead plays. Nigel was oppressed by the sense of uneasy expectation that visits all interlopers in deserted buildings. Now, he thought, was the time for the ghosts of old mummers to step out from behind the waiting doorways and mouth their way silently through forgotten scenes. Somewhere above their heads a rope creaked, and a little draught of air soughed among the hanging canvas.

“Let’s go,” said Nigel.

Alleyn switched on an electric torch and they found their way down the passage to the stage door. Nigel stepped out into the cool air. The others were talking to a night-watchman, and to two young men, whom Nigel recognized as journalists.

“Just a moment,” said Alleyn’s voice in the passage. “Look here!”

The others turned back. The light from the torch had penetrated a kind of dark cubby-hole on the left of the doorway. It shone on old Blair’s closed eyes.

“Good God!” exclaimed Nigel. “Is he dead?”

“No — only asleep,” said Alleyn. “What’s his name?”

“Blair,” said the night-watchman.

“Wake up, Blair,” said Alleyn. “It’s long past the final curtain, and they’ve all gone home to bed.”

By nine o’clock on the following morning Nigel had got his story ready to go to press. He warned his sub-editors of his activities and they agreed, with a certain display of irritated enthusiasm, to hold back the front page while he submitted his copy to Alleyn. The morning papers were blazing with effective headlines, supported by exceedingly meagre information. Nigel sought out his friend at Scotland Yard and found him more amenable to persuasion than he had anticipated. The article laid great emphasis on the view that Gardener’s part in the tragedy, painful though it had been for himself, did not point in any way to his complicity in the murder. Alleyn did not dispute this, or censor a word of it. Nigel had made little of the personal relationships of Surbonadier, Gardener and Miss Vaughan, beyond using the romantic appeal of the engagement between the last two. He made a lot of his first-hand impression of the tragedy, and of the subsequent scenes behind the curtain.

“Less culpable than I anticipated,” said Chief Detective-Inspector Alleyn. “With the few deletions I’ve pencilled it can go through. Are you returning to your office?”

“Not if you’ll have me here,” said Nigel promptly. “I’ve got a boy to take back the copy.”

“Aren’t you a one? All right — come back. I’ve come to the stage when I can do with a Boswell.”

“Throwing bouquets at yourself, I see,” said Nigel. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

Having sent the boy off to Fleet Street, he returned to find Alleyn at the telephone.

“Very well,” he said into the instrument as he glanced round at Nigel, “I’ll see you in twenty minutes”—and hung up the receiver.

“A very unpleasant gentleman,” he grunted.

“How — unpleasant?”

“An informer, or hopes to be.”

“Who is it?”

“Mr. Saint’s footman. Wait and see.”

“I will,” said Nigel enthusiastically. “How are you getting on, inspector?”

“Oh, it’s a devil of a job,” Alleyn complained.

“I’ve been trying to get it straight in my mind,” ventured Nigel, “as far as I know it. I made a sort of amateur dossier.”

“I don’t suppose you know what a dossier is,” said Alleyn. “However, let’s see your effort.”

Nigel produced several sheets of typewritten paper.

“Here are the notes I took for you.”

“Thank you so much, Bathgate. Now do show me your summary. It may be very useful. I’m bad at summarizing.”

Nigel glanced suspiciously at him, but Alleyn seemed to be quite serious. He lit his pipe and applied himself to the sheet of foolscap, at the top of which Nigel had typed in capital letters:

“MURDER AT THE UNICORN.

“ Circumstances.

“Surbonadier was shot by Gardener with the revolver used in the piece. According to the evidence of the stage manager and the property man, dummy cartridges, of which one was faulty, were placed in the drawer of the desk, immediately before the scene in which Surbonadier loaded the gun. Traces of sand, found in the prompt box, seem to support this theory.”

“There was also sand in the top drawer,” said Alleyn, glancing up.

“Was there? That’s pretty conclusive, then.” Alleyn read on:

“Props says the faulty cartridge only went wrong that night, when he dropped it Unless he is lying, and he and the stage manager are in collusion, that means the dummies were in the top drawer just before the scene opened. Therefore the murderer substituted the lethal cartridges either immediately prior to, or during, the blackout, which lasted four minutes. He used gloves, took the dummies from the top drawer, substituted the real ones, put the dummies in the lower drawer, and got rid of the gloves. A pair of men’s grey suede gloves was found in the bag that hung on an arm-chair on the stage. Surbonadier took the cartridges from the top drawer and loaded the revolver. During the scene that followed Gardener took the gun from him and fired point-blank in the usual way. The cartridges afterwards found in the gun were all live ones;

“ Opportunity.

“Everyone behind the scenes had the chance of changing the cartridges. The people on the stage, perhaps, the greatest opportunity. These were Miss Max, Miss Emerald, Surbonadier himself, and the stage manager. On the other hand, anyone may have come out on to the darkened stage and done it. Miss Vaughan, Barclay Crammer, Howard Melville, Miss Deamer, the dressers and the staff, all come under the heading.

“ Motive.

“The characters involved may now be taken in turn.

“ Miss Emerald . She was on the stage. She had an altercation with Surbonadier. She was seen by the S. M. and Miss Max to cross to the desk and lean over it. Told lies. Motive. — Unknown, but she had quarrelled with S. N. B . — She seems to be on very friendly terms with Jacob Saint, uncle of S.

“ Miss Max . On the stage. Handled bag where gloves were found. Did not go near desk while lights were up. Motive. — None known.

“ Stage Manager . On the stage. Handled dummy cartridges. Would be able to go to desk unnoticed or during black-out. Peculiar witness. Motive. — None known.

“ Property Master . Handed dummies to S. M. Easy access to desk after black-out. Behaved suspiciously after murder. Dropped candelabrum from above. Hid in gallery. Concealed locality of dummies in second drawer. Motive. — Engaged to Trixie Beadle. Surbonadier had interfered with her. Shellshock case.

“ Stephanie Vaughan . In dressing-room. Says Trixie Beadle, her dresser, was there with her, but can’t remember how long. Says she went to Gardener’s room and remained there until after the black-out. Motive. — Had been threatened by Surbonadier, who was madly in love with her. Possibly afraid of something he might reveal to Gardener. Engaged to Gardener.