“You — Britishers,” he said.
“But aren’t Australians British?” asked Alleyn. For the first time Ogden looked frightened.
“I was born in Michigan,” he said.
“Australia may congratulate herself,” answered Alleyn.
“Sez you!”
“Mr. Ogden,” said Alleyn, “you are too vulnerable. What are you waiting for, Fox?”
They took Ogden out. One by one the Initiates drifted away. Mrs. Candour, Claude and Lionel, who seemed to have discovered some mysterious affinity, left together. De Ravigne, who had remained completely unruffled, made ceremonious adieux.
“I imagine, M. l’Inspecteur, that there is something more than hops to the eye in this affair.”
“It will all hop to the eye soon enough, M. de Ravigne,” said Alleyn sombrely.
“I can believe it. So long as my poor Cara is revenged I am satisfied. I must confess I myself suspected the priest. Without a doubt he is on an equality with Ogden. He introduced to Cara so many infamies. The drugs — to one of her temperament—”
“Did you never suspect the drug?”
“Certainly. I confronted her with it. Monsieur, I am myself almost as culpable. I introduced her to this accursed place. For this I can never forgive myself.”
“There is one question I should like to ask you,” said Alleyn. “Did you remember the Curiosities of Chemistry when you saw it again in this room?”
“I remembered that I had held it in my hands, but I could not recollect where, or upon what occasion. It had not interested me. Later, in my flat, the whole scene returned to me. I had upset the glass. The book was stained. I cannot conceive why I had forgotten.”
“I see,” said Alleyn politely. “You discovered the book? Ogden did not show it to you?”
“I discovered it, monsieur. Had I not upset my glass that evening the book would not have been taken from the shelf. I myself called Ogden’s attention to it. He was, as I remember, speaking to Mrs. Candour at the time. I called him to me in order to ask about the book.”
“Ah,” said Alleyn, “that tallies. Thank you very much, monsieur.”
“Not at all, monsieur. If you will excuse me—?”
De Ravigne went out, unruffled. Miss Wade approached Alleyn. As usual she had a deceptive air of perspicacity.
“Good evening, officer,” she said.
“Good evening, Miss Wade,” said Alleyn gravely.
“I am most upset,” announced Miss Wade. “Mr. Ogden has always impressed me as being a very gentlemanly fellow, for a foreigner of course. And now you say he is a poisoner.”
“He is charged with murder,” murmured Alleyn.
“Exactly,” said Miss Wade. “My dear brother was once in Michigan. The world is very small, after all.”
“Indubitably!”
“Obviously,” continued Miss Wade, “Father Garnette has been greatly abused. By whom?”
“Miss Wade,” said Alleyn, “if I may make a suggestion, I–I do most earnestly advise that you put this place and all its associations right out of your mind.”
“Nonsense, officer. I shall continue to attend the ceremonies.”
“There will be no ceremonies.”
Miss Wade stared at him. Gradually a look of desolation came into her faded eyes.
“No ceremonies? But what shall I do?”
“I’m so sorry,” said Alleyn gently.
She instantly quelled him with a look that seemed to remind him of his place. She tweaked her shabby gloves and turned to the door.
“Good evening,” said Miss Wade, and went out into the deserted hall.
“Oh, Mr. Garnette!” swore Alleyn, “and oh, Mr. Ogden!” Maurice and Janey were the last to leave.
“Look here,” said Alleyn, “I’m not going to be official with you two people. Miss Wade has snubbed me, poor little thing, and you can too if you think fit. Mr. Pringle, I have to thank you most sincerely for the stand you took just now. It was, of course, an extremely courageous move. You spoke frankly about the habit you have contracted. I shall speak as frankly. I think you should go into a nursing home where such cases are treated. I know of an excellent place. If you will allow me to do so I can write to the doctor-in-charge. He will treat you sympathetically and wisely. It won’t be pleasant, but it is, I believe, your only chance. Don’t answer now. Think it over and let me know. In the meantime, I have asked Dr. Curtis to have a look at you and he will help you, I am sure. This is an inexcusable bit of cheek on my part, but I hope you will forgive me.”
Maurice stood and stared at him.
“Can I come and see you?” he said suddenly.
“Yes, when I’m not too busy,” answered Alleyn coolly. “But don’t go and distort me into an object for hero-worship. I seem to see it threatened in your eye. I’m too commonplace and you’re too old for these adolescent fervours.”
He turned to Janey.
“Good-bye,” he said. “I’m afraid you’ll be called as witnesses.”
“I suppose so,” said Janey. “Am I allowed to do a spot of hero-worship?”
“You reduce me to the status of an insufferable popinjay,” replied Alleyn. “Good-bye and God bless you.”
“Same to you,” said Janey. “Come on, Blot.”
“Well, Bathgate,” said Alleyn.
“Hullo,” said Nigel.
“You were right again, you see.”
“Was I? When?”
“You warned me on Sunday that Ogden was too good to be true.”
“Good Lord!” said Nigel. “So I did. I’d forgotten. Extraordinarily clever of me. Look here. Could you bear to sit down for ten minutes and — and — confirm my first impression?”
“I knew this was coming. All right. But let it be in your flat.”
“Oh, of course.”
They locked up Father Garnette’s flat and went out into the hall. Only two side lamps were alight and the building was almost as full of shadows as it had been when Nigel walked in, unbidden, on Sunday night. It was so still that the sound of rain beating on the roof filled the place with desolation. The statues, grey shapes against the walls, assumed a new significance. The clumsy gesture of the Wotan seemed indeed to threaten. The phoenix rose menacingly from the sacred flame. Alleyn followed Nigel down the centre aisle. At the door he turned and looked back.
“I wonder what will happen to them,” he said. “One of Garnette’s symbols, at least, is true. The phoenix of quackery arises again and again from its own ashes. Tonight we slam the door on this bit of hocus-pocus and tomorrow someone else starts a new side-show for the credulous. Come on.”
They went down the outside passage and out into the rain. The constable was still on duty.
“It’s all over,” said Alleyn. “You can go home to bed.” Up in Nigel’s flat they built themselves a roaring fire and mixed drinks.
“Now then,” said Nigel.
“What do you want to know?” asked Alleyn a little wearily.
“I don’t want to bore you. If you’d rather—”
“No, no. It’s only the beastly anti-climax depression. Always sets in after these cases. If I don’t talk about it I think about it. Go ahead.”
“When did you first suspect him?”
“As soon as I learnt the order in which they had knelt. He was the last to take the cup before it returned to Garnette. That meant that he had least to risk. Except Garnette, of course. Miss Wade told us that the priest always took the cup in one hand and laid the other over the top. That meant he would not see the little tube of paper. Do you remember I said that Ogden’s position made him the first suspect?”
“Yes. I thought you meant — Never mind. Go on.”
“Ogden would know that Garnette handled the cup in that way. He would also know that Miss Quayne would spend some time over her hysterical demonstration before she drank the wine. There would be time for the cyanide to dissolve. The point you made about the uncertainty of whether the paper would be seen was a good one. It pointed strongly to Ogden. He was the only one, except Garnette and Claude, who could be sure it would not be noticed. I felt that the others would be unlikely to risk it. Claude had neither the motive nor the guts. Garnette had an overwhelming motive, but he’s an astute man and I simply couldn’t believe that he would be ass enough to leave the book lying about for us to find.”