“Hard to say,” said Fox. “Looks like the beginnings of blackmail.”
“Very like, very like.”
“From all accounts it wouldn’t be very surprising if we found Garcia had set her on to it, would it now?”
“Speculative, but attractive.”
“And then murdered her when he’d collared the money,” said Nigel.
“You’re a fanciful fellow, Bathgate,” said Alleyn mildly.
“Well, isn’t it possible?”
“Quite possible on what we’ve got.”
“Shall I get Mr. Pilgrim, sir?”
“I think so, Fox. We’ll see if he conforms to the Garcia theme or not.”
“I’ll bet he does,” said Nigel. “Is it the Basil Pilgrim who’s the eldest son of the Methodist Peer?”
“That’s the one. Do you know him?”
“No, but I know of him. I did a story for my paper on his old man. The son’s rather a pleasant specimen, I fancy. Cricketer. He was a Blue and looked good enough for an M.C.C. star before he took to this painting.”
“And became a little odd?” finished Alleyn with a twinkle.
“I didn’t say that, but it was rather a waste. Anyhow I fail to visualise him as a particularly revolting type of murderer. He’ll conform to the Garcia theme, you may depend upon it.”
“That’s because you want things to work out that way.”
“Don’t you think Garcia’s your man?”
“On what we’ve got I do, certainly, but it’s much too early to become wedded to a theory. Back to your corner.”
Fox returned with Basil Pilgrim. As Nigel had remarked, Pilgrim was a very pleasant specimen. He was tall with a small head, square shoulders and a narrow waist. His face was rather fine-drawn. He had a curious trick while he talked of turning his head first to one member of his audience and then to another. This habit suggested a nervous restlessness. He had a wide mouth, magnificent teeth and very good manners. Alleyn got him to sit down, gave him a cigarette and began at once to establish his movements after he drove away with Valmai Seacliff from Tatler’s End House on Friday afternoon. Pilgrim said that they motored to some friends of Valmai Seacliff’s who lived at Boxover, twelve miles away. They dined with these friends — a Captain and Mrs. Pascoe — spent the evening playing bridge and stayed the night there. The next day they motored to Ankerton Manor, the Oxfordshire seat of Lord Pilgrim, where Basil introduced his fiancée to his father. They spent Saturday night at Ankerton and returned to Tatler’s End House on Sunday afternoon.
“At what time did you break up your bridge party on Friday night?” asked Alleyn.
“Fairly early, I think, sir. About elevenish. Valmai had got a snorter of a headache and could hardly see the cards. I gave her some aspirin. She took three tablets, and turned in.”
“Did the aspirin do its job?”
“Oh-rather! She said she slept like the dead.” He looked from Alleyn to Fox and back again. “She didn’t wake till they brought in tea. Her head had quite cleared up.”
“Is she subject to these headaches?”
Pilgrim looked surprised.
“Yes, she is rather. At least, she’s had one or two lately. I’m a bit worried about them. I want her to see an oculist but she doesn’t like the idea of wearing glasses.”
“It may not be the eyes.”
“Oh, I think it is. Painters often strain their eyes, you know.”
“Did you sleep comfortably?”
“Me?” Pilgrim turned to Alleyn with an air of bewilderment. “Oh, I always sleep like a log.”
“How far is Ankerton Manor from here, Mr. Pilgrim?”
“Eighty-five miles by my speedometer. I took a note of it.”
“So you had a run of seventy-three miles from Boxover on Saturday?”
“That’s the idea, sir.”
“Right. Now about this unfortunate girl. Can you let any light in on the subject?”
“Afraid I can’t. It’s a damn’ bad show. I feel rotten about it.”
“Why?”
“Well, wouldn’t anybody? It’s a foul thing to happen, isn’t it?”
“Oh, yes — perfectly abominable. I meant, had you any personal reason for feeling rotten about it?”
“Not more than any of the others,” said Pilgrim after a pause.
“Is that quite true, Mr. Pilgrim?”
“What do you mean?” Again he looked from Alleyn to Fox. He had gone very white.
“I mean this. Had Sonia Gluck no closer link with you than with the rest of the class?”
If Pilgrim had been restless before, he was now very still. He stared straight in front of him, his lips parted, and his brows slightly raised.
“I see I shall have to make a clean breast of it,” he said at last.
“I think you would be wise to do so.”
“It’s got nothing to do with this business,” he said. “Unless Garcia knew and was furious about it. My God, I don’t know what put you on to this, but I’m not sure it won’t be a relief to talk about it. Ever since this morning when she was killed, I’ve been thinking of it. I’d have told you at once if I’d thought it had any bearing on the case, but I–I didn’t want Valmai to know. It happened three months ago. Before I met Valmai. I was at a studio party in Bloomsbury and she — Sonia — was there. Everyone got pretty tight. She asked me to drive her back to her room and then she asked me if I wouldn’t come in for a minute. Well — I did. It was the only time. I got a damned unpleasant surprise when I found she was the model here. I didn’t say anything to her and she didn’t say anything to me. That’s all.”
“What about the child?” asked Alleyn.
“God! Then she did tell somebody?”
“She told you, at all events.”
“I don’t believe it’s true. I don’t believe the child was mine. Everybody knows what sort of girl she was. Poor little devil! I don’t want to blackguard her after this has happened, but I can see what you’re driving at now, and it’s a serious business for me. If I’d thought the child was my affair, I’d have looked after Sonia, but everybody knows she’s been Garcia’s mistress for months. She was poisonously jealous of Valmai, and after our engagement was announced she threatened this as a hit at Valmai.”
“How was the matter first broached?”
“She left a note in the pocket of my painting-coat. I don’t know how long it had been there. I burnt it. She said she wanted me to meet her somewhere.”
“Did you do this?”
“Yes. I met her in the studio one evening. It was pretty ghastly.”
“What happened?”
“She said she was going to have a baby. She said I was the father. I said I didn’t believe it. I knew she was lying, and I told her I knew. I said I’d tell Valmai the whole story myself and I said I’d go to Garcia and tell him. She seemed frightened. That’s all that happened.”
“Are you sure of that?”
“Yes. What d’you mean? Of course I’m sure.”
“She didn’t try blackmail? She didn’t say she would go to Miss Seacliff with this story or, if that failed, she didn’t threaten to appeal to your father?”
“She said all sorts of things. She was hysterical. I don’t remember everything she said. She didn’t know what she was talking about.”
“Surely you would remember if she threatened to go to your father?”
“I don’t think she did say she’d do that. Anyway, if she had it wouldn’t have made any difference. He couldn’t force me to marry her, I know that sounds pretty low, but, you see, I knew the whole thing was a bluff. It was all so foul and squalid. I was terrified someone would hear her or something. I just walked away.”
“Did she carry out any of her threats?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”