Inspector Alleyn 3-Book Collection 4: A Surfeit of Lampreys, Death and the Dancing Footman, Colour Scheme. Ngaio Marsh

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СКАЧАТЬ went first.’

      ‘Henry just had a little snoop d-down the passage.’

      ‘In which direction?’

      ‘Towards the hall. He was only a second or two. He came into the d-drawing-room just after we did.’

      ‘And did you all stay in the drawing-room until Lady Charles came?’

      ‘Yes,’ said the twins together.

      ‘I see. That pretty well covers the ground. One more question and I think I may put it to both of you. You’ll understand that we wouldn’t ask it unless we felt that it was entirely relevant. What impression did you get of Lady Wutherwood during the afternoon?’

      ‘Mad,’ said the twins together.

      ‘In the strict sense of the word?’

      ‘Yes,’ said Colin. ‘We all thought so. Mad.’

      ‘I see,’ said Alleyn again. ‘That’s all, I think. Thank you.’

      II

      When the twins reappeared in the drawing-room Roberta thought they had a slightly attenuated and shivery air, rather as if they had been efficiently purged by Nanny. They looked coldly at the rest of their family, walked to the sofa and collapsed on it.

      ‘Well,’ said Colin after a long silence, ‘I see no reason why we should not announce in anything but plain English the fact that the gaffe is blown, the cat out of the bag, and the balloon burst.’

      ‘What do you mean?’ cried Charlot. ‘You didn’t –?’

      ‘No Mama, we didn’t tell him because he already knew,’ said Stephen. ‘I was the l-liftman. I did it with my little button.’

      ‘I told you so,’ Frid observed. ‘I told you that you’d never get away with it.’

      Stephen looked icily at her. ‘Is it possible,’ he said, ‘that any sister of mine can utter that detestable, that imbecilic phrase? Yes, Frid dear, you told us so.’

      ‘But, Stephen,’ said Charlot in a voice so unlike her own that Roberta wondered for a second who had spoken. ‘Stephen, he doesn’t think – you – Stephen?’

      ‘It’s all right, Mum,’ said Colin, ‘I don’t see how he could.’

      ‘Of course not,’ said Lord Charles loudly. ‘My dear girl, you’re so upset and tired you don’t know what you’re saying. The police are not fools, Immy. You’ve nothing to upset yourself about. Go to bed, my dear.’ And he added without great conviction, an ancient phrase of comfort. ‘Things will seem better in the morning,’ said Lord Charles.

      ‘How can they?’ asked Charlot.

      ‘My darling heart, of course they will. We’re in for a very disagreeable time no doubt. Somebody has killed Gabriel, and although it’s all perfectly beastly, we naturally hope that the police will find his murderer. It’s a horrible business, God knows, but there’s no need for us to go adding to its horror by imagining all sorts of fantastic developments.’ He touched his moustache. ‘My dear,’ he said, ‘to suppose that the boys are in any sort of danger is quite monstrous, it is to insult them, Immy. Innocent people are in no kind of danger in these cases.’

      Frid looked towards the far end of the room, where the constable’s red head showed over the back of his chair. ‘Do you agree to all that?’ she said loudly. The constable, slightly startled, got to his feet.

      ‘I beg your pardon, Miss?’

      ‘It would be grand,’ Frid said, ‘if we knew your name.’

      ‘Martin, Miss.’

      ‘Oh. Well, Mr Martin, I asked if you would say innocent people are as safe as houses, no matter how fishy things may look?’

      ‘Yes, Miss,’ said the constable.

      ‘My good ass,’ said Henry, glaring at Frid, ‘who looks fishy?’

      ‘Henry, don’t speak like that to Frid.’

      ‘I’m sorry, Mama, but honestly! Frid is.’

      ‘I’m not,’ said Frid. ‘We all look fishy. Don’t we?’ she demanded of the constable, ‘don’t we look as fishy as Billingsgate?’

      ‘I couldn’t say, Miss,’ said the constable uneasily, and Roberta suddenly felt extremely sorry for him.

      ‘That will do, Frid,’ said Lord Charles. Roberta had not imagined his voice could carry so sharp an edge. Frid crossed the room stagily and sat on the arm of her mother’s chair.

      There was a tap at the door and the constable, with an air of profound relief, answered it. The usual muttered colloquy followed, but it was punctuated by a loud interruption outside. ‘It’s perfectly all right,’ said a cheerful voice in the hall. ‘Mr Alleyn knows all about it and Lady Lamprey expects me. If you don’t believe me, toddle along and ask.’

      ‘It’s Nigel!’ cried the Lampreys and Frid shouted: ‘Nigel! Come in, my angel! We’re all locked up but Mr Alleyn said you could come.’

      ‘Hallo, my dear!’ answered the voice. ‘I know. I’ll be there in a jiffy. They’re just asking – oh, thanks. Tell him I’ll come and see him later on, will you? Where are we? Thanks.’

      The constable admitted a robust young man who, to Roberta’s colonial eyes, instantly recalled the fashionable illustrated papers, so compactly did his clothes fit him, and so efficiently barbered and finished did he seem, with his hair drilled back from his reddish face, his brushed-up moustaches, and his air of social efficiency. He came in with a lunging movement, smoothing the back of his head and grinning engagingly, and rather anxiously, at the Lampreys.

      ‘Nigel, my dear,’ cried Charlot, ‘we’re so delighted to see you. Did you think it too queer of Frid to ring up? Everyone else did.’

      ‘I thought it marvellous of Frid,’ said Nigel Bathgate. ‘Hallo, Charles, I’m terribly sorry about whatever it all is.’

      ‘Damnable, isn’t it,’ said Lord Charles gently. ‘Sit down. Have a drink.’

      ‘Robin,’ said Henry, ‘you haven’t met Nigel, have you? Mr Bathgate, Miss Grey.’

      Roberta while she shook hands, had time to be pleased because Henry did not seem to forget she was there. As soon as Henry remembered Roberta, so did all the other Lampreys. ‘Poor Robin,’ said Charlot, ‘she’s just this second arrived from the remotest antipodes to be hurled into a family homicide. Do get your drink quickly, Nigel, and listen to our frightful story. We’re so dreadfully worried, but we thought that if we were having a cause célèbre you might as well get in first.’

      ‘And perhaps stave off the pressmen,’ added Frid. ‘You will, won’t you, Nigel? It really is a scoop for you.’

      ‘But СКАЧАТЬ