Inspector Alleyn 3-Book Collection 2. Ngaio Marsh

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      Nigel had paused, pen in air, to gape at Mr Ogden’s enthusiastic countenance, and to reflect a little childishly on the gullibility of average men and women. None of these people was particularly stupid, he would say, except perhaps Mrs Candour. Miss Quayne had looked interesting. Mr Ogden was obviously an intelligent business man. Janey Jenkins, Maurice Pringle, M. de Ravigne were none of them idiots. He forgot all about Miss Wade. Yet all these apparently sensible individuals had been duped by Garnette into parting with sums of money. Extraordinary! At this moment he remembered his own reaction to Father Garnett’s oratory and felt less superior.

      ‘That’s how generous she was,’ repeated Mr Ogden.

      ‘What was the relationship between M. de Ravigne and the deceased?’

      ‘Crazy about her,’ answered Mr Ogden succinctly.

      ‘Yet I rather gathered that the Initiates were a cut above earthly love,’ ventured Alleyn.

      ‘I guess M. de Ravigne has not altogether cast off the shackles of the body,’ said Mr Ogden dryly. ‘But get this: Cara was not interested. No, sir. Her soul was yearning after the inner mysteries of the spirit.’

      ‘Did you hear what Mr Pringle and Mrs Candour said immediately after the tragedy?’

      Mr Ogden looked uncomfortable.

      ‘Well, I can’t say –’

      Alleyn consulted his notebook and read aloud the conversation as Nigel had reported it to him.

      ‘Mr Pringle said: “The whole thing is a farce.” He talked about retribution. He said to Mrs Candour: “You would have taken her place if you could.” What do you think he meant, Mr Ogden?’

      ‘I don’t know, Chief, honest I don’t,’ said Mr Ogden, looking very worried. ‘Maybe there was a little competition between the ladies for spiritool honours. Maybe Pringle kind of thought Mrs Candour would have enjoyed a spell as Chosen Vessel.’

      ‘I see.’

      ‘You don’t want to make too much of it. They were all het up. That boy’s three hundred per cent nerves. Garsh!’ Mr Ogden went on fervently, ‘I wish to hell we could smoke.’

      ‘Same here,’ agreed Alleyn. ‘I’d give my soul for a pipe. No hope for me, I’m afraid, but I don’t think I need keep you much longer, Mr Ogden.’

      Mr Ogden looked astounded.

      ‘Well, say!’ he remarked, ‘that’s certainly a surprise to me. I don’t get the works this trip?’

      ‘Nor the next, I hope. Unless you can think of anything you feel we ought to know I shan’t worry you any more until after the inquest. Of course, if you have any theory I should be extremely glad –’

      ‘For Gard’s sake!’ ejaculated Mr Ogden. ‘Listen. Are they all this way around the Yard?’ He looked at Fox and lowered his voice to a penetrating whisper. ‘He looks more like a regular dick. An’ yet if I worded him maybe he’d talk back like a bud’s guide to society stuff. Is that so?’

      ‘You must meet Inspector Fox and find out,’ said Alleyn. ‘Fox!’

      ‘Hullo, sir?’ Fox hoisted himself up and walked solemnly round the pews towards them.

      ‘Mr Ogden finds our methods a little lacking in colour.’

      ‘Indeed, sir?’

      ‘Yes. Can you suggest any improvements? Have you any questions you would like to put to Mr Ogden, Fox? Something really startling, you know.’

      ‘Well, sir, I can’t say I have. Unless’ – Fox paused a moment and stared at Alleyn – ‘unless Mr Ogden can tell us anything about the – er – the ingredients of the cup.’

      ‘Can you, Mr Ogden.’

      ‘Surely. It’s some sissy dope from a departmental store. I’ve seen the bottles. Invalid Port. One half per cent alcohol. But –’

      ‘Yes?’

      ‘Well, since you’re asking, Chief, I reckon Father Garnette has it pepped up some. A drop of brandy I’d say. Mind, I don’t know.’

      ‘There you are, Fox. Anything else?’

      ‘I don’t think so, sir,’ said Fox with a smile, ‘unless the gentleman would like to be searched.’

      ‘Would you care to be searched, Mr Ogden? We do that sort of thing rather neatly.’

      ‘Well, for crying out loud!’ exclaimed Mr Ogden. He looked from Alleyn to Fox, cast up his eyes, passed a plump hand over his head and burst out laughing.

      ‘Get to it,’ he begged,’ get to it. For the Lord’s sake get to it. Would I care to be searched!’

      ‘Carry on, Fox,’ said Alleyn.

      Fox took out a notebook and Alleyn, with the swift precision of a pick-pocket, explored the inner fastnesses of Mr Ogden’s suit.

      ‘Note-case. One fiver and three singles. Pocket-book. Letter. Typewritten, stamped and sealed. Address “Hector K. Manville, Ogden-Schultz Gold-refining and Extracting Co., 81 East forty-fifth Street, Boston, Massachusetts.” Letter refers to a new gold refining process. It’s rather technical.’

      Fox read it with difficulty.

      ‘Bill from Harrods. £9 10s. 8d. To account rendered. Date: November 2nd of this year. Letter beginning “Dear Sam,” signed Heck. Date –’

      Alleyn murmured on. It was all over before Mr Ogden had left off chuckling.

      ‘No phials of poison,’ said Alleyn lightly. ‘That’s all, sir.’

      ‘It was real smart,’ declared Mr Ogden handsomely. ‘They don’t fan a man neater than that in the States. That’s saying some. Well, Inspector, if that’s all I guess I’ll move off. Say, it seems real callous for me to be standing here talking facetious when Cara Quayne is lying – See here, Chief, have I got to say murdered?’

      ‘We must wait for the inquest, Mr Ogden.’

      The American’s genial face had suddenly become preternaturally solemn like that of a clown, or a child who has been reproved for laughing.

      ‘If it is murder,’ he said quietly, ‘and the trail’s not just all that easy and – aw hell, Chief, I’ve got the dollars and I ain’t paralysed yet.’

      With which cryptic remark Mr Ogden took himself off.

      ‘Is he real?’ asked Nigel, ‘or is he a murderer with unbridled histrionic ambitions? Surely no American was ever so American. Surely –’

      ‘Do stop making these exclamatory interjections. You behave for all the world like a journalistic Greek chorus. Fox, what did the gentleman mean by his last remark. The one about not suffering from paralysis?’

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