Inspector Alleyn 3-Book Collection 2. Ngaio Marsh

nom!’ said de Ravigne. ‘So you know of that also?’

      ‘Oh, yes.’

      ‘Then it will be difficult to persuade you that it was my intention yesterday and is doubly so today, to withdraw my capital from this affair.’

      ‘Five hundred, isn’t it? asked Alleyn.

      ‘Yes. If I did not make this gesture before, M. l’Inspecteur, it was because I was unwilling to bring about a fracas which would have involved more persons than Father Garnette himself. When I first attended the little temple in Great Holland Road I found it in need of funds. I could not afford to give this sum, but I could afford to lend it. Mr Ogden was also willing, and on a larger scale, to invest money. I left the business arrangements to Father Garnette and Mr Ogden, who is a man of commerce. Myself, I have not the business temperament. But rest assured I shall withdraw. One cannot suffer oneself to become financially associated with such canaille.’

      ‘Do you call Mr Ogden canaille, monsieur?’

      ‘Monsieur, I refer rather to the priest. But Ogden, he is very much of the people. His perceptions are not acute. He is not fastidious. No doubt he will not feel any delicacy in accepting his interest from this investment. As for the priest – but I prefer not to discuss the priest.’

      ‘Do you know that Mr Garnette has been giving drugs to Pringle, Mrs Candour and Miss Quayne?’

      De Ravigne did not answer at once. He lit a cigarette and then with an apology offered the box.

      ‘No?’ he said. ‘Then perhaps your pipe?’

      ‘Not just at the moment, thank you very much. About this drug business?’

      ‘Ah, yes. Your information does not surprise me.’

      ‘You knew, then?’

      ‘Monsieur, I must repeat that the private affairs of the Initiates does not interest me.’

      ‘But – Miss Quayne?’

      ‘I cannot believe that she indulged in the vice.’

      ‘Nevertheless –’

      ‘I cannot believe it,’ said de Ravigne violently, ‘and I will not discuss it.’

      ‘Ah, well,’ said Alleyn. ‘let us leave it then. Apropos of the letter, monsieur. Why did you emphasize your desire that she should destroy it?’

      ‘I have already told you of my distaste for having my letters read. That old Hebborn! She has her nose in everything and she is antagonistic to me. I could not endure that she should intrude her nose into it.’

      ‘Then why not write in French?’

      ‘But I wished to impress her of my calmness and deliberation,’ said M. de Ravigne smoothly. ‘If I wrote in French, allowing my emotion full scope, what would she think? She would think: “Ah, he has shot himself off at the deep ending. This Gallic temperament! Tomorrow he will be calm again.” So I write coolly in English and request that she destroys this letter.’

      ‘Ah, yes, that explains the postscript.’ Alleyn got to his feet and then, as if it were an afterthought, he said:

      ‘The book on chemistry. I understand you have seen it before?’

      De Ravigne hesitated for the fraction of a moment before he replied: ‘It is strange you should say that. I myself received the impression that I had encountered the book, but where? I cannot recollect.’

      ‘Was it in Mr Ogden’s house?’

      ‘But of course! In his house. He showed it to me. How could I have forgotten? The priest was there and looked at it too. And the others. It was too stupid of me to forget. I remember I upset a glass of whisky and soda near it. Ogden fancied the book might be of value, I think, but it was of no interest to me. That is why I did not remember it. So the book is the good Ogden’s book? That is interesting, monsieur, is it not?’

      ‘Any information about the book is interesting. And speaking of books, M. de Ravigne, may I have the books of the Sacred Flame Company? I understand you’ve got them here.’

      ‘The books? Ah, yes. The good Ogden insisted that I glance at them. They seem to be in order. Naturally the theft of the bonds would not appear. Perhaps the good Ogden himself has seen to that. Perhaps he and the priest together have arranged these little matters. You see I am bitter, monsieur. I am not easily made suspicious, but when my suspicions are aroused – But the books! You shall have them, certainly.’

      He rang for his servant, who produced the books and gave them to Alleyn.

      ‘There’s one other question, M. de Ravigne, and then I shall trouble you no further. Do you know anything of a Madame la Comtesse de Barsac?’

      ‘My sister, monsieur,’ said de Ravigne very frigidly.

      ‘Forgive me. I really didn’t know. She was the confidante of Miss Quayne, I think ? A very great friend?’

      ‘That is so.’

      Alleyn got up.

      ‘A thousand thanks,’ he said. ‘Is there anything else, Fox? Perhaps you –’

      ‘No thank you, sir,’ said Fox cheerfully. ‘I think you’ve covered the ground.’

      ‘Then we will make our adieux, monsieur. You will have received notice of the inquest tomorrow?’

      ‘At eleven o’clock, yes. It will, I imagine, be purely formal.’

      ‘One never knows with inquests, but I expect so. The terms of the Will may come out. You know them, I expect?’

      ‘No, monsieur.’

      ‘No? Come along, Fox. Where are those books?’

      ‘You’ve got them under your arm, sir.’

      ‘Have I? So I have. Au ‘voir, Monsieur de Ravigne. I am afraid we have been a great nuisance.’

      ‘Not at all, Monsieur l’Inspecteur. I am only too glad – though I am afraid I have been of little assistance –’

       ‘Tout au contraire, monsieur.’

      ‘Vraiment? Au ‘voir, monsieur. Good afternoon, monsieur.’

      ‘Oh reevor, monsieur,’ said Fox very firmly.

      On their way down the liftman extolled the virtues of the flats, and Alleyn warmly agreed with him, but still insisted that he preferred the solace of an open fire. Inspector Fox listened gravely to his conversation, occasionally uttering a profound noise in his throat. As they got into the car his good-natured face wore the nearest approach to a sardonic smile of which it was capable.

      ‘The Yard,’ said Alleyn to the driver. ‘You’ll be able to improve your French if we see much more of that gentleman,’ he added with a smile at Fox.

      ‘It’s a rum thing,’ said Inspector Fox, ‘that I can follow that radio bloke a fair treat, and yet when the monsieur gets under way it sounds like a collection of apostrophes.

      What do we do when we get back to the office?’

      ‘We send a cable to Australia.’

      ‘To Australia?’

      ‘Yes, Brer Fox.’

      ‘What’s that in aid of?’

      ‘You’ve never been to Australia?’

      ‘I have not.’

      ‘I have. Let me tell you about it.’

      Alleyn discoursed at some length about Australia. They got back to the Yard at five o’clock. The fingerprint people reported that they had been unable to find any of the Sacred Flame prints in the records. Mr Rattisbon had sent a letter round for Alleyn. The report from