“There’s more to it than that. When I got there and the door was shut in my face, I couldn’t rest till I knew — knew if she was doing it. I walked round the block to the back of the building. I came to a sort of yard, I could still hear the noise inside. There was a door. I stood by it listening. There was one voice, louder than the others. Then I saw the door was not quite shut — and — and—”
“You walked in.”
“Yes, sir, I did. I felt I had to. I had to know. It was that man’s rooms I’d got into. There was a light in the sitting-room. The voice got louder all the time. I–I went in. Miss Cara had told me about him living on the premises in that hole-and-corner fashion, so I knew about the other door — the one into the hall. I opened it a little way. There’s a curtain, but I pulled it aside.”
A dark flush crept into the pale face. She looked defiantly at Alleyn.
“I tell you I could not help myself.”
“I know. What did you see?”
“They were moving. I could see the front row. I saw her. Miss Cara. She came running up the steps toward me. That man was quite close. His back was turned to me. Her face. Her pretty face — it looked dreadful. Then she turned and faced them. She was calling out. Screaming. I tried to go in and stop it. I couldn’t. I couldn’t move. Only watch. I might have saved her. No, don’t say anything — I might. Then I saw that lot coming up after her. Skirmishing round.”
“Yes. Go on,” said Alleyn quickly. “Tell me exactly—”
“I’ll remember to my dying day. First that American gentleman, Ogden. Then one or two of them together, then the young man and Miss Jenkins. The only one of the lot I’d care to have anything to do with. Led astray like my poor child. Mrs. Candour and old Miss Wade were trying to get one on each side of that man. I saw Mrs. Candour push in by him. Miss Wade tried to get in on the other side. She was in a great-taking-on. In the end she didn’t get there. Collided with the American gentleman and nearly fell over. It’s my belief he stopped her on purpose, having some sense of decency.”
“Oh. What did she do then?”
“He put her next to Mr. Ravigne and went next to that man himself. Then my poor child began again. Don’t ask me. I can’t — I couldn’t watch. Something seemed to break in me. I turned and — and somehow I got out into the street.”
She turned her head aside, gave a harsh sob and then blew her nose defiantly.
Alleyn stood up.
“You must try and get a sleep now.”
Nannie was silent.
“At least your Miss Cara is out of it all.”
“I thank God for that,” said Nannie.
“I won’t keep you a minute longer. Do you know if Miss Quayne has left a Will?”
“She made one years ago, sir, when she came of age, but I think she’s changed it. She told me she was going to Mr. Rattisbon — that’s her lawyer — about it. That lot have been getting money out of her, as well I know.”
“Much?”
“I don’t know, sir, but I have my ideas. A great deal, if you ask me. And I dare say she’ll have left them the rest.” She hesitated and then raised her voice. “And if she’s been murdered, sir, it’s for her money. Mark my words, it’s for her money.”
“It often is,” said Alleyn. “Thank you. Go and rest somewhere. You need it, you know.”
Nannie glared down her nose, muttered: “Very considerate, I’m sure,” and tramped to the door. Here she paused and turned.
“May I ask a favour, sir?”
“Certainly.”
“Can I — will they let me have her home again before she’s put away?”
“Not just yet, Nannie,” said Alleyn gently. “Tomorrow, perhaps — but — I think it would be better not.”
She looked fixedly at him and then, without another word, went out of the room.
CHAPTER XIV
Nigel Takes Stock
Grand old, girl, that,” said Nigel from his armchair.
“Wasn’t she?” agreed Alleyn. “That doorkeeper in the house of the ungodly will have to be seen.”
“To check up on her visit?”
“Just that.”
“Look here,” said Nigel, “how did you know?”
“Never mind. Keep quiet. Now I’ll have to see the rest of the staff.”
The rest of the staff proved to be unproductive of much intelligence. Two housemaids, a parlourmaid, a chauffeur and a cook, who all seemed excited and perturbed as if they had one eye on the tragedy and the other on losing their jobs. The parlourmaid, outwardly a frigid woman, obviously regarded the affair as a personal affront and seemed at the same time to be in a semi-explosive condition. The upper-housemaid was excited, the under-housemaid was incoherent. The cook wept, but absent-mindedly and rather as though she felt it incumbent on her as a fat, comfortable woman to do so. They bore out Nannie’s statements as regards their movements on the preceding day. The chauffeur repeated his previous statement that he had driven Miss Quayne to the church at two-thirty and had brought her home at five to three. He had certainly thought she seemed most upset when she came out of the church. “Kind of flabbergasted,” was the way he’d describe it. She was very pale and, he thought, out of breath. He had got tired of sitting in the car and had walked up the side entry to the double doors. Miss Quayne had left one door open and he looked into the hall. He saw her come out of the door by the altar. He thought she said something and supposed she was speaking to Father Garnette. One or two people had gone into the church while he waited. Alleyn asked the parlourmaid, who had been with Miss Quayne since she took the house, how many of the Initiates were regular visitors. He gave her a list of their names which she held in genteel fashion with her little finger crooked.
“Most of these neemes are familiar,” she said.
“Have all of them visited Miss Quayne?”
“Yes.”
“Some more frequently than others?”
“Quayte,” said the parlourmaid, whose name was Wilson.
“Which were the most regular visitors?”
“Mr. Ravinje,” it appeared, Mr. Ogden and Mrs. Candour.
“Mrs. Candour? When was she last here?”
“I could ascertain,” said Wilson, “from the appointment book.”
“Please let me see it.”
Wilson produced the appointment book. It was a diary, and Alleyn spent some minutes over it.
“I notice,” he said at last, “that Mrs. Candour was quite a regular visitor until some three weeks ago. She seems to have lunched or dined pretty well every week. Then her name does not appear again.” He raised an eyebrow at Wilson. “Any reason for that, do you know?”
“There was words,” said Wilson.
“What about?”
“A certain party.”
“Oh. What party? Or don’t you know?”
Wilson drew down the corners of her mouth.
“Come on, Wilson,” said Alleyn. “Let’s know the worst.”
“Well, reelly, I never am in the habit of repeating the drawing-room in the kitchen,” said Wilson.
“This isn’t the kitchen and it may be important. Did Mrs. Candour and Miss Quayne have words about Mr. Garnette?”
“Yes, sir,” said Wilson who seemed to have weighed Alleyn in the balance and found him quality.
“Tell me about it, Wilson. You’ll be speaking in the cause of justice, you know. Think of that and expand. Did this row take place at lunch on Wednesday, November 14th, the last time Mrs. Candour was here?”
“Yes, sir. Or rather it was after lunch. Over the coffee in here.”
“You brought the coffee in?”
“Yes. Voices was raised and I heard words as the ladies came out of the diningroom. I was coming into the hall with the tray and I didn’t hardly know what to do.”
“Very awkward for you. What were they saying?”