Читать книгу Inspector Alleyn 3-Book Collection 1: A Man Lay Dead, Enter a Murderer, The Nursing Home Murder - Ngaio Marsh, Stella Duffy - Страница 17

Nigel’s long-distance call turned out to be from Mr Benningden the family solicitor. Mr Benningden was one of those small, desiccated gentlemen so like the accepted traditional figure of a lawyer that they lose their individuality in their perfect conformation to type. He was greatly perturbed by Charles Rankin’s death. That Nigel, who knew him very well, could be sure of; but his dry voice and staccato phrases had lost nothing of their formal precision. He arranged to come down to Frantock the following afternoon. Nigel hung up the receiver, and went to the barn in search of Angela.

Halfway there he ran into Alleyn, who was talking to an under-gardener. Evidently the inspector had extended his examination of the servants to the outdoor staff. Nigel remembered how yesterday the guests had wandered off in twos and threes. He had seen Mrs Wilde and Rankin in the garden, and had wondered if Wilde and Rosamund were together. Would Alleyn try to trace the movements of each individual? Was there any significance in the grouping? What, wondered Nigel, not for the first time, what exactly was the inspector up to? The under-gardener held by the hand a very small, very dirty, very red-faced child of undecipherable sex, whom Alleyn was regarding with a comical air of frustration.

‘Mr Bathgate,’ ejaculated the inspector. ‘One moment! Tell me, have you a way with children?’

‘I really don’t know,’ said Nigel.

‘Well, don’t hurry away like that. This is Stimson, the third gardener, and this is his daughter—er—Sissy. Sissy Stimson. Stimson tells me that she returned yesterday from the woods full of some story of a weeping woman. I rather want to investigate, but she is a difficult witness. Do see if you can have a success with her. I want to settle the identity of this tearful lady, and also of a person who appears to have trotted along beside her. Sissy is not exactly a gossipy child. Er, Sissy—here’s Mr Bathgate come to talk to you.’

‘Hullo, Sissy,’ said Nigel reluctantly.

Sissy flung herself at her father’s leg and buried her face in his unappetizing trousers.

‘Cut that out,’ said Stimson. ‘She’s a peculiar child, sir,’ he continued, turning to Nigel. ‘A very peculiar nature she’s got. Now, if her Ma was present, I don’t doubt but what she’d have the whole matter out of Sissy; but unluckily, sir, the wife’s away till Saturday, and I can’t say I’ve got the same light touch with the child. Here, give over, will ‘ee, Sis.’

He moved his leg uneasily, but the little girl refused to detach herself.

‘Sissy,’ said Nigel, feeling inadequate and ridiculous, ‘would you like a nice silver penny?’

A baleful eye showed round a fold of the trousers. Nigel produced a shilling and held it up with an air of simulated ecstasy.

‘Look what I’ve found,’ he simpered.

A sort of falsetto growl rose from the truculent child.

‘Gatcha!’ it said.

‘Go on,’ said Alleyn. ‘Splendid! Go on.’

‘Would you like this silver penny?’ inquired Nigel, squatting on his heels and holding the shilling very close to the child’s face.

Sissy made a sudden grab, and Nigel snatched back his hand.

‘’Tain’t a penny—it’s a shillun,’ said Sissy derisively.

‘So it is!’ agreed Nigel. ‘Well, look here, I’ll give it to you if you’ll tell this nice gentleman—’ he shot a vindictive glance at Alleyn—‘what you saw in the woods yesterday.’

Dead silence.

‘Oh!’ squeaked the inspector suddenly, ‘I’ve found a silver shilling, too. Fancy!’

Stimson showed signs of enthusiasm.

‘Come on, carn’t ‘ee!’ he urged his daughter. ‘Speak up, Sis. Tell the gentleman all about that theer lady that was crying in the coppice; they’ll give you a coupla bob. There now!’

Sissy had come out of cover and was swinging her barrel-like body from side to side.

‘Was she a big lady?’ asked Alleyn.

‘Nah!’ whined Sissy.

‘Was she a little lady?’ asked Nigel.

‘Nah!’

‘Well, now, approximately—’ began the inspector, and checked himself. ‘Was she alone?’ he inquired.

‘I seen a loidy,’ said Sissy.

‘Yes, yes. Excellent. So far, so good. Now, was this lady alone? All alone!’ chanted Alleyn in a sort of faraway croon. ‘All alone!’

Sissy stared at him.

‘Was she—was she all by ‘elf?’ asked Nigel, trying baby talk.

‘Nah! said Sissy.

‘There was someone else with the lady?’

‘Yea-us.’

‘Another lady?’ suggested Nigel.

‘Nah. Loidies don’t go wiv loidies in der coppus.’

Stimson laughed coarsely. ‘Isn’t she a masterpiece, sir?’ he asked.

‘Come now,’ said Alleyn crisply. ‘We are getting on. The lady was with a gentleman?’

Nigel had to repeat this question.

‘Yea-us,’ conceded Sissy.

‘What sort of gentleman?’ began Alleyn.

Sissy made another grab at Nigel’s shilling and gave a sudden boisterous shout.

‘Was he a big gentleman?’ said Nigel, backing away from her.

‘Gimme der shillun!’ yelled Sissy. ‘Yah! Gimme der shillun!’

‘No!’ said Nigel. ‘Not if you aren’t a good girl.’

The girl screamed piercingly and flung herself face downwards on the path, where she remained yelling and thrashing about with her legs.

‘That’s tore it,’ said Stimson gloomily.

‘What are you doing to that poor baby!’ cried an indignant voice, and Angela came hurrying down the path. In a moment she was kneeling on the ground and had gathered Sissy up in her arms. The child clung round Angela’s neck and buried her filthy little face in her blouse.

‘Toike away the nasty gentlemen!’ she sobbed, ‘and gimme der shilluns!’

‘My poor darling,’ crooned Angela. ‘Why have you been teasing her?’ she demanded fiercely of Nigel and Alleyn.

‘We haven’t been doing anything of the sort,’ said Nigel crossly. ‘Have we, Stimson?’

‘You didn’t go for to, sir,’ agreed Stimson. ‘It’s like this, miss,’ he continued. ‘Sissy saw a lady and gentleman in the coppice, and the lady was crying, and this gentleman wants to know the rights of it. And young Sis, she’s turned rancid on us, miss.’

‘I don’t wonder,’ said Angela. ‘Give me that money you’ve been tormenting her with.’

Alleyn and Nigel handed over the shillings.

‘There, my precious!’ murmured Angela. ‘We won’t tell them anything about it. We’ll have it for a secret. You whisper to me what the silly old people in the woods were like. You needn’t wait, Stimson. I’ll bring her along to the cottage.’

‘Very good, miss,’ said Stimson, and retired.

Sissy appeared to blow ferociously in Angela’s ear.

‘A lady with a lovely red cap,’ whispered Angela. ‘Poor lady! I expect a wopsie had bitten her, don’t you? Was it a big gentleman?’

Alleyn had whipped out his note-book. Sissy was breathing hard into Angela’s hair.

‘It was a funny gentleman,’ reported Angela. ‘Why was he funny? Just funny. You saw another lady this afternoon, did you? What was she doing, darling? Just walking. There now! That was a lovely secret, and now we’ll go home.’

‘I’ve got a lovely secret, too,’ said Detective-Inspector Alleyn astonishingly.

Sissy, who had detached herself from Angela, turned a watery eye on him. The inspector suddenly squatted down by her and distorted his face slightly so that one slim black eyebrow shot up his forehead. Sissy chuckled. The eyebrow came back to normal.

‘More!’ said Sissy.

‘It won’t do it again unless you whisper to it some more about the gentleman you saw in the coppice,’ said Alleyn.

Sissy waddled across the path and placed a fat, earthy paw on the inspector’s face. He flinched slightly and shook his head. Sissy whispered. The eyebrow moved up.

‘There! That’s how it works,’ remarked Alleyn; ‘and if we went into the coppice, there’s no knowing if it wouldn’t do it again.’

Sissy looked over her shoulder at Angela. ‘Goin’ to der coppus,’ she said briefly.

Alleyn rose with the child in his arms.

‘Leave to dismiss, Miss North?’ he asked politely.

‘Certainly, Inspector Alleyn,’ said Angela stiffly.

The inspector performed a guardsman’s salute with his free hand, and strode off down the path with Sissy’s arms entwined lovingly about his neck.

‘Extraordinary!’ said Nigel.

‘Not a bit,’ rejoined Angela. ‘The child has got sense, that’s all.’

‘Shall we play badminton?’ asked Nigel.

‘By all means,’ responded Miss North.