“Why, Miss Lee?”
“Well, they were always whispering together, and I went to the studio one day, about a week ago, I think, and there they were having a session — I mean, they were talking — nothing else.”
“You seem to have had a good many lucky dips in the studio, Lee,” said Katti Bostock. “What did you overhear this time?”
“You needn’t be so acid. It may turn out a mercy I did hear them. Mayn’t it, Superintendent?” She appealed to Alleyn.
“I haven’t risen to superintendent heights, Miss Lee. But please do tell me what you heard.”
“As a matter of fact, it wasn’t very much, but it was exciting. Garcia said: ‘All right — on Friday night, then.’ And Sonia said:‘Yes, if it’s possible.’ Then there was quite a long pause and she said: ‘I won’t stand for any funny business with her, you know.‘ And Garcia said: ‘Who?’ and she said — I’m sorry, Mr. Alleyn — but she said: ‘The Seacliff bitch, of course.’ ” Miss Lee turned pink. “I am sorry, Mr. Alleyn.”
“Miss Seacliff will understand the exigencies of a verbatim report,” said Alleyn with the faintest possible twinkle.
“Oh, I’ve heard all about it. She knew what he was up to, of course,” said Valmai Seacliff. She produced a lipstick and mirror and, with absorbed attention, made up her lovely mouth.
“Why didn’t you tell me the swine was pestering you?” Pilgrim asked her.
“My sweet — I could manage Garcia perfectly well,” said Seacliff with a little chuckle.
“Anything more, Miss Lee?” asked Alleyn.
“Well, yes. Sonia suddenly began to cry and say Garcia ought to marry her. He said nothing. She said something about Friday evening again, and she said if he let her down after that she’d go to Troy and tell her the whole story. Garcia just said — Mr. Alleyn, he just sort of grunted it, but honestly it sounded frightful. Truly. And she didn’t say another thing. I think she was terrified — really!”
“But you haven’t told us what he did say, you know.”
“Well, he said: ‘If you don’t shut up and leave me to get on with my work, I’ll bloody well stop your mouth for keeps. Do what I tell you. Get out!’ There!” ended Miss Lee triumphantly.
“Have you discussed this incident with anyone else?”
“I told Seacliff, in confidence.”
“I advised her to regard it as nobody’s business but theirs,” said Seacliff.
“Well — I thought somebody ought to know.”
“I said,” added Seacliff, “that if she still felt all repressed and congested, she could tell Troy.”
“Did you follow this excellent advice, Miss Lee?”
“No — I didn’t — because — well, because I thought — I mean— ”
“I have rather sharp views on gossip,” said Troy dryly. “And even sharper views on listening-in. Possibly she realised this.” She stared coldly at Miss Lee, who turned very pink indeed.
“How did this incident terminate?” asked Alleyn.
“Well, I made a bangy sort of noise with the door to show I was there, and they stopped. And I didn’t eavesdrop, Miss Troy, truly. I just rooted to the ground with horror. It all sounded so sinister. And now see what’s happened!”
Troy looked up at Alleyn. Suddenly she grinned, and Alleyn felt a sort of thump in his chest. “Oh God,” he thought urgently, “what am I going to do about this? I didn’t want to lose my heart.” He looked away quickly.
“Are there any other incidents of any sort that might have some bearing on this tragedy?” he asked at large.
Nobody answered.
“Then I shall ask you all to stay in here for a little while longer. I want to see each of you separately, before we close down to-night. Miss Troy, will you allow us to use a separate room as a temporary office? I am sorry to give so much trouble.”
“Certainly,” said Troy. “I’ll show you— ”
She led the way to the door and went into the hall without waiting for them. Alleyn and Fox followed, leaving the local man behind. When the door had shut behind them Alleyn said to Fox:
“Get through to the Yard, Fox. We’ll have to warn all stations about Garcia. If he’s tramping, he can’t have walked so far in three days. If he’s bolted, he may be anywhere by now. I’ll try and get hold of a photograph. We’d better broadcast, I think. Make sure nobody’s listening when you telephone. Tell them to get in touch with the city. We must find this warehouse. Then see the maids. Ask if they know anything at all about the studio on Friday night and Saturday morning. Come along to the drawing-room when you’ve finished, will you?”
“Right, sir. I’ll just ask this P.C. where the telephone hangs out.”
Fox turned back, and Alleyn moved on to the end of the hall, where Troy waited in a pool of light that came from the library.
“In here,” she said.
“Thank you.”
She was turning away as Alleyn said:
“May I keep you a moment?”
He stood aside for her to go through the door. They returned to the fire. Troy got a couple of logs from’the wood basket.
“Let me do that,” Alleyn said.
“It’s all right.”
She pitched the logs on the fire and dusted her hands.
“There are cigarettes on that table, Mr. Alleyn. Will you have one?”
He lit her cigarette and his own and they sat down.
“What now?” asked Troy.
“I want you to tell me exactly what you did from the time you left the studio on Friday at noon until the class assembled this morning.”
“An alibi?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think for a moment,” said Troy, in a level voice, “that I might have killed this girl?”
“Not for a moment,” answered Alleyn.
“I suppose I shouldn’t have asked you that. I’m sorry. Shall I begin with the time I got up to the house?”
“Yes, please,” said Alleyn.
He thought she was very stiff with him and supposed she resented the very sight of himself and everything he stood for. It did not occur to Alleyn that his refusal to answer that friendly grin had sent up all Troy’s defences. Where women were concerned he was, perhaps, unusually intelligent and intuitive, but the whole of this case is coloured by his extraordinary wrong-headedness over Troy’s attitude towards himself. He afterwards told Nigel Bathgate that he was quite unable to bring Troy into focus with the case. To Troy it seemed that he treated her with an official detachment that was a direct refusal to acknowledge any former friendliness. She told herself, with a sick feeling of shame, that he had probably thought she pursued him in the ship. He had consented to sit to her, with a secret conviction that she hoped it might lead to a flirtation. “Or,” thought Troy, deliberately jabbing at the nerve, “he probably decided I was fishing for a sale.”
Now, on this first evening at Tatler’s End House, they treated each other to displays of frigid courtesy. Troy, summoning her wits, began an account of her week-end activities.
“I came up to the house, washed, changed and lunched. After lunch, as far as I remember, Katti and I sat in here and smoked. Then we went round to the garage, got the car, and drove up to our club in London. It’s the United Arts. We got there about four o’clock, had tea with some people we ran into in the club, shopped for an hour afterwards, and got back to the club about six, I should think. I bathed, changed and met Katti in the lounge. We had a cocktail and then dined with the Arthur Jayneses. It was a party of six. He’s president of the Phoenix Group. From there we all went to the private view. We supped at the Hungaria with the Jayneses. I got back to the club somewhere round two o’clock. On Saturday I had my hair done at Cattcherly’s in Bond Street. Katti and I had another look at the show. I lunched early at the Ritz with a man called John Bellasca. Then I picked Katti up at the club and we got back here about three.”