Inspector Alleyn 3-Book Collection 2. Ngaio Marsh

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      ‘I’m extremely sorry to have kept you waiting, sir,’ said Alleyn, ‘but you will understand that there were several matters to deal with. Shall we go down into the chairs there?’

      Garnette inclined his head and led the way. He seated himself unhurriedly and hid his hands in his wide sleeves. Fox, all bland detachment, strolled to a nearby pew and seemed to be absorbed in his sketch-plan of the chancel and sanctuary. Nigel, at a glance from Alleyn, joined Inspector Fox and took out his notebook. A shorthand report of the interviews would do no harm. Father Garnette did not so much as glance at Nigel and Fox. Alleyn pulled forward a large faldstool and sat on it with his back to the flickering torch. The priest and the policeman regarded each other steadily.

      ‘I am appalled,’ said Father Garnette loudly. His voice was mellifluous and impossibly sorrowful. ‘Ap-PALL-ed.’

      ‘Unpleasant business, isn’t it?’ remarked Alleyn.

      ‘I am bewildered. I do not understand, as yet, what has happened. What unseen power has struck down this dear soul in the very moment of spiritual ecstasah?’

      ‘Cyanide of potassium I think,’ said Alleyn coolly, ‘but of course that’s not official.’

      The embroidery on the white sleeves quivered slightly.

      ‘But that is a poison,’ said Father Garnette.

      ‘One of the deadliest,’ said Alleyn.

      ‘I am appalled,’ said Father Garnette.

      ‘The possibility of suicide will have to be explored, of course.’

      ‘Suicide!’

      ‘It does not seem likely, certainly. Accident is even more improbable, I should say.’

      ‘You mean, then, that she – that she – that murder has been done!’

      ‘That will be for a jury to decide. There will be an inquest, of course. In the meantime there are one or two questions I should like to ask you, Mr Garnette. I need not remind you that you are not obliged to answer them.’

      ‘I know nothing of such matters. I simply wish to do my duty.’

      ‘That’s excellent, sir,’ said Alleyn politely. ‘Now as regards the deceased. I’ve got her name and address, but I should like to learn a little more about her. You knew her personally as well as officially, I expect?’

      ‘All my children are my friends. Cara Quayne was a very dear friend. Hers was a rare soul, Inspector – ah?’

      ‘Alleyn, sir.’

      ‘Inspector Alleyn. Hers was a rare soul, singularly fitted for the tremendous spiritual discoverahs to which it was granted I should point the way.’

      ‘Oh, yes. For how long has she been a member of your congregation?’

      ‘Let me think. I can well remember the first evening I was aware of her. I felt the presence of something vital, a kind of intensitah, a – how can I put it? – an increased receptivitah. We have our own words for expressing these experiences.’

      ‘I hardly think I should understand them,’ remarked Alleyn dryly. ‘Can you give me the date of her first visit?’

      ‘I believe I can. It was on the festival of Aeger. December the fifteenth of last year.’

      ‘Since then she has been a regular attendant?’

      ‘Yes. She had attained to the highest rank.’

      ‘By that you mean she was a Chosen Vessel?’

      Father Garnette bent his extraordinary eyes on the inspector.

      ‘Then you know something of our ritual, Inspector Alleyn?’

      ‘Very little, I am afraid.’

      ‘Do you know that you yourself are exceedingly receptive?’

      ‘I receive facts,’ said Alleyn, ‘as a spider does flies.’

      ‘Ah.’ Father Garnette nodded his head slowly. ‘This is not the time. But I think it will come. Well, ask what you will, Inspector.’

      ‘I gather that you knew Miss Quayne intimately – that in the course of her preparation for tonight’s ceremony you saw a great deal of her.’

      ‘A great deal.’

      ‘I understand she took the name of Frigga in your ceremony?’

      ‘That is so,’ said Father Garnette uneasily.

      ‘The wife of Odin, I seem to remember.’

      ‘In our ritual the relationship is one of the spirit.’

      ‘Ah, yes,’ said Alleyn. ‘Had you any reason to believe she suffered from depression or was troubled about anything?’

      ‘I am certain of the contrarah. She was in a state of tranquilitah and joy.’

      ‘I see. No worries over money?’

      ‘Money? No. She was what the world calls rich.’

      ‘What do you call it, sir?’

      Father Garnette gave a frank and dreadfully boyish laugh.

      ‘Why, I should call her rich too, Inspector,’ he cried gaily.

      ‘Any unhappy love affair, do you know?’ pursued Alleyn.

      Father Garnette did not answer for a moment. Then he said sadly:

      ‘Ah, Inspector Alleyn, we speak in different languages.’

      ‘I didn’t realize that,’ said Alleyn. ‘Can you translate my question into your own language, or would you rather not answer it?’

      ‘You misunderstand me. Cara Quayne was not concerned with earthly love; she was on the threshold of a new spiritual life.’

      ‘And apparently she has crossed it.’

      ‘You speak more faithfully than you realize. I earnestly believe she has crossed it.’

      ‘No love affair,’ said Alleyn, and wrote it down in his notebook. ‘Was she on friendly terms with the other Initiates?’

      ‘There is perfect loving kindness among them. Nay, that does not express my meaning. The Initiates have attained to the third plane where all human relationships merge in an ecstatic indifference. They cannot hate for there is no hatred. They realize that hatred is maya – illusion.’

      ‘And love?’

      ‘If you mean earthlah love, that too is illusion.’

      ‘Then,’ said Alleyn, ‘if you follow the idea to a logical conclusion, what one does cannot matter СКАЧАТЬ