Inspector Alleyn 3-Book Collection 2. Ngaio Marsh

       CHAPTER 9 Miss Wade

      Father Garnette showed an inclination to hover, but was most firmly removed to his own rooms. He and Miss Wade met on the chancel steps.

      ‘Ah, you poor soul!’ intoned Father Garnette. ‘Very weary? Very sad?’

      Miss Wade looked from Bailey to the priest.

      ‘Father!’ she whispered. ‘They are not – they don’t suspect –’

      ‘Courage, dear lady!’ interposed Father Garnette very quickly and loudly. ‘Courage! We are all in good hands. I shall pray for you.’

      He hurried past and made for his door, followed by Bailey. Miss Wade looked after him for a moment and then turned towards the steps. She peered shortsightedly into the hall. Alleyn went up to her.

      ‘I cannot apologize enough for keeping you so long.’

      Miss Wade examined him doubtfully, ‘I am sure you were doing your duty, officer,’ she said.

      ‘You are very kind, madam. Won’t you sit down?’

      ‘Thank you.’ She sat, very erect, on the edge of one of the chairs.

      ‘There are certain questions that I must ask,’ began Alleyn, ‘as a matter of official routine.’

      ‘Yes?’

      ‘Yes. I’ll be as quick as I can.’

      ‘Thank you. It will be nice to get home,’ said Miss Wade plaintively. ‘I am distressed by the thought that I have perhaps left my electric heater turned on. I can remember perfectly that I said to myself: “Now I must not forget to turn it off,” but –’

      Here Miss Wade stopped short and gazed pensively into space for at least seven seconds.

      ‘I recollect,’ she said at last, ‘I did turn it off. Shall we commence? You were saying?’

      ‘That I should like, if I may, to ask you one or two questions.’

      ‘Certainly. I shall be glad to be of any assistance. I am not at all familiar with the methods of the police, although I have a very dear brother who was an officer in the Cape Mounted Police during the Boer War. He suffered great privations and discomforts and his digestion has never quite recovered.’

      Alleyn stooped abruptly and fastened his shoe.

      ‘The questions, Miss Wade, are these,’ he began when he had straightened up again. ‘First: did you notice any unusual smell when you received the cup from M. de Ravigne?’

      ‘Let me think. Any odour? Yes,’ said Miss Wade triumphantly, ‘I did. Decidedly. Yes.’

      ‘Can you describe it?’

      ‘Indeed I can. Peppermint.’

      ‘Peppermint!’ ejaculated Alleyn.

      ‘Yes. And onion. You see Claude, the lad who acted as cupbearer, was bending over me and – and it was rather overwhelming. I have noticed it before and wondered if I should speak to Father about it. Evidently, the lad is passionately fond of these things, and I don’t, I really don’t think it is quite reverent.’

      ‘I agree,’ said Alleyn hurriedly. ‘Miss Wade, you have said once before this evening that Miss Quayne was not very happy and not very popular. Can you tell me a little more about her? Why was she unpopular?’

      ‘But you were not here when I said that, officer. I am positive of that because when we were in there waiting – no. I’m not telling the truth – that’s a fib. It was before you came, and it was before that young man went to the telephone and’ – Miss Wade again stared fixedly at the inspector for some seconds – ‘and Father Garnette said to me: “I implore you not to speak like that to the police,” so you see I know you were not here, so how did you know?’

      ‘Mr Bathgate remembered and told me. Why was Miss Quayne unhappy?’

      ‘Because she was unpopular,’ said Miss Wade triumphantly.

      ‘And why was she unpopular, do you think?’

      ‘Poor thing! I think there was a certain amount of jealousy. I’m afraid that there was, although perhaps I should not say so. Father Garnette seemed to think I should not say so.’

      ‘I am sure you want to help us.’

      ‘Oh, yes, of course I do. At least – Would you be good enough to tell me if poor Cara was murdered?’

      ‘I believe so. It looks like it.’

      ‘Then if I say that somebody was jealous of her you may grow suspicious and begin to think all sorts of things, and I don’t believe in capital punishment.’

      ‘Jealousy is not invariably followed by homicide.’

      ‘Isn’t that precisely what I was saying! So you see!’

      ‘Mrs Candour,’ said Alleyn thoughtfully, ‘tells me that Miss Quayne was not a particularly striking personality.’

      ‘Now that’s really naughty of Dagmar. She should try to conquer her feelings. It is not as though Father gave them any encouragement. I am afraid she wilfully misunderstood. He is too noble and too pure even to guess –’

      ‘Guess what, Miss Wade?’

      Miss Wade compressed her faded lips and looked acutely uncomfortable.

      ‘Come!’ said Alleyn. ‘I shall jump to some terrible conclusion if you are so mysterious.’

      ‘I don’t believe what they say,’ cried Miss Wade. Her voice shook and her thin hands trembled in her lap. ‘It is wicked – wicked. His thoughts are as pure as a saint’s. Cara was a child to him. Dagmar is a wicked woman to speak as she does. Cara was excitable and impulsive, we know that, and generous – generous. Rich people are not always to be envied.’ Alleyn was silent for a moment.

      ‘Tell me,’ he began at last,’ were your eyes closed during the ceremony of the cup?’

      ‘Oh, yes. We all must keep our eyes closed, except, of course, when we pour out the wine. One has to open them then.’

      ‘You did not notice any of the other Initiates when they poured out the wine?’

      ‘Of course not,’ said Miss Wade uncomfortably. She became very pink and pursed up her lips.

      ‘I should have thought,’ pursued Alleyn gently, that when you took the cup from M. de Ravigne –’

      ‘Oh, then of course I had to peep,’ admitted Miss Wade.

      ‘And when you passed it on to Mr Pringle?’

      ‘Well, of course. Especially with Mr Pringle, he has such very tremulous hands. Exceedingly tremulous. It’s smoking too many cigarettes. I told him so. I said frankly to him: “Mr Pringle, you will undermine your health with this excessive indulgence in nicotine.” My dear brother is also a very prolific smoker, so I know.’

      ‘Mr Pringle did not spill any wine, I suppose?’

      ‘No. No, he didn’t. But more by good fortune than good management. He took the cup by the stem in one hand and it quivered and, if I may say so reverently, jigged about so much that he was obliged to grasp it by the rim with the other. Then, of course, he had great difficulty in taking the wine-vessel – the silver jug, you know – from Claude, and in pouring out the wine. It wasn’t at all nice. Not reverent.’

      ‘No. M. de Ravigne?’

      ‘Ah. There, quite a different story. Everything very nice and respectful,’ said Miss Wade. ‘Dagmar had left a little trickle on the rim and he drew