Джон Пристли - Salt is Leaving

"Do you mind about that?" Maggie asked as Alan went to take the bottle out of his overcoat pocket. "I mean – no more free drinks – delightful flat – all the rest of it – um?"

"My dear, if I hadn't met Alan," she whispered, " – and don't make any mistake, Maggie – I'd marry him tomorrow even if we'd only thirty bob between us – I say, if I hadn't met him and if I'd had another year or so of that Fabrics life, I know now I'd have been well on my way to becoming a hard-faced, hard-hearted bitch and tart."

"And you realize, don't you," said Maggie as Alan returned with the bottle, "that if it hadn't been for Salt, going round asking about Noreen Wilks, refusing to be put off, none of this would have happened? You owe it all to him, both of you." She looked at them almost defiantly.

"We'll drink his health," said Alan. "What about some glasses, Mag? You know your way around this joint."

"I ought to by this time." As she went into the kitchen, she heard them talking in low tones, perhaps about her. She returned with four glasses and a jug of water. "There isn't any soda. In fact, there isn't anything much, let's face it."

And then, before she could sit down, Maggie heard a taxi outside, knew that it must be Salt, and hurried to the door to meet him. He looked tired. Suddenly, and for the very first time, Maggie found herself disregarding his nonchalant air, his not-giving-a-damn attitude, his little eccentricities and jokes, and realizing, not without some self-reproach, that this man, who had been overworking for years and had promised himself a holiday, had been under an increasing strain the whole week. She could have flung her arms round him, wet overcoat and all, and pressed her warm cheek against his cold one.

"We were in time. She's going to be all right – at least physically. Who's here?"

"Alan and Jill. She wants to thank you because Alice has offered her that job."

"And I do," cried Jill, as they went in. "I really do. Most gratefully – most humbly – most apologetically – I mean, after screaming at you the night before last. Here." She was already standing, and now she swiftly kissed his cheek.

"We were just about to drink your health," said Alan, grinning.

"In your own whisky, too," said Salt. "Well, now we'll drink to somebody or something else."

"Let me pour out the booze," cried Jill. "My God – I ought to be good at it by this time." But a little later, after they had all had their first sip or two, she looked doubtfully at Salt. "Maggie told us you insisted upon Sir Arnold Donnington coming here. Aren't Alan and I going to be in the way?"

"I told them I wasn't sure," Maggie added.

"He might object," said Salt slowly, "but I think for once an objection of his is going to be overruled. I'd like you to stay. You've both been mixed up, one way or another, in this sad messy affair. If you didn't stay, then you'd never know how it came to be cleaned and tidied up." He looked round at all three of them. "I say that because I don't want a single word about it to be spoken outside this room. In other words, I want to bind you to secrecy here and now. This is really important – very serious. Maggie, you promise?"

"Yes, of course, Salt. Solemnly I do."

"You, Jill? You, Alan? Good! Donnington ought to be here quite soon. He knows his daughter's out of danger now. On the other hand, she isn't conscious yet and he might as well leave. Now let's talk about something else."

"All right," said Maggie. "When I went into the kitchen to get the glasses, I suddenly realized there isn't a thing for breakfast, Salt."

"Well, dear," said Jill softly and sweetly. "That can't be any concern of yours, can it?"

"Men want breakfasts, don't they? And I'll bet you've got a whacking great breakfast all planned for Alan. Sausages, I hope. That's what he likes on Sunday."

"You've missed the point, Maggie dear," Jill told her. "Alan and I are no better than the wicked. Whereas you-"

"Oh – do shut up." Maggie jumped to her feet, went across to one of the remaining piles of books, and did something quite unnecessary to three or four at the top. The back of her neck looked hot.

"As a matter of fact, Maggie," said Salt, "I remember now I left a bag of groceries in the spare bedroom. I must have been thinking about something else." Then he stopped because he had heard the car. "I think that'll be Sir Arnold Donnington."

Maggie turned, found she had suddenly gone cold, and shivered a little.

1

Sir Arnold Donnington was wearing a long dark overcoat that he refused to take off. He also dismissed with a quick shake of the head the chair that was offered him. He just stood there, looking as if he would be gone in a minute – a stiff elderly man with a narrow head. Maggie remembered now having seen photographs of him in the local papers. He didn't look at her or at Alan and Jill, only at Salt, who was standing too.

"I'm not staying long," Sir Arnold announced. "I had an anxious time at the hospital, as you know, and I'm an elderly man. I wouldn't have come here at all if it were not for the fact that I felt I owed you something. Dr Harrison said my daughter might have lost her life if you hadn't acted so promptly. So I felt I ought to spare you a few minutes. Though nothing was said about all your friends being here, too."

"Not all. There are three or four elsewhere. But allow me to introduce Miss Culworth, Miss Frinton and Dr Culworth. Miss Frinton is – or was – one of your employees. It was she who organized the parties attended by your son and Noreen Wilks. And Culworth is the name of the man who was knocked out by your caretaker on Monday night, and then rushed into a nursing home and kept under sedation. So – you might say they"re all in the picture."

"Well, Dr Salt?" said Sir Arnold, just as if not a word had been spoken to him. "I can only give you a few minutes. What do you want?"

"I want you to drop that tone, Sir Arnold," said Salt, quite easily and cheerfully. "Come down a few pegs."

"I'm afraid that doesn't mean anything to me, Dr Salt."

"I see. You"re staying on that lofty height, are you? Well, you'll have to come down from it sooner or later. And staying up there you only increase the tension."

Maggie knew he was going to pounce now – she had learnt a lot about Salt in a few days – and she felt a kind of choking sensation as her heart went faster.

" Look at your hands , man ," said Salt, very sharply.

Sir Arnold didn't look at them, but hastily thrust them into his overcoat pockets.

"Ah – but there's something else," Salt continued, easier now. "Something you can't control – which gives you away – like a visible pulse. I noticed it when I saw you in Superintendent Hurst's office, the other morning. High tension. I knew then that Noreen Wilks was important to you. Ask Hurst."

"Rubbish! I never knew the girl. And if that's all you have to say-"

"You"re running your own lie detector, you know, Sir Arnold. Every time you speak, your blood's going to contradict you. By the way, you'll have to do something about that blood pressure."

"I have quite a competent doctor," said Sir Arnold dryly. He was now in better control of himself. "He's never suggested a second opinion. And if he did, I'm quite sure it wouldn't be yours, Dr Salt."

"So am I, though you needn't work so hard to be offensive. Hypertension, to use the new and fashionable term, has never been one of my special studies," he continued cheerfully. "But now I'm wondering how far it might affect the eyesight of an elderly man. Now you"re not a slapdash type. You"re a careful man. And you had to be very careful that night – I mean the night of September 12th, when Noreen Wilks was murdered. I think you were, but your eyesight was at fault."