Читать книгу Inspector Alleyn 3-Book Collection 4: A Surfeit of Lampreys, Death and the Dancing Footman, Colour Scheme - Ngaio Marsh, Stella Duffy - Страница 36

Alleyn wondered distractedly if there was anywhere at all in the flat where he could yell in privacy into the ear of this lady. He decided that the best place would be in the disconnected lift with the doors shut. By a series of inviting gestures he managed to lure her in. She sank on to the narrow seat. He had time to reflect that Bailey and Thompson had finished their investigation of the lift. He leant against the doors and contemplated his witness. She was a little like a sheep, and a rapid association of ideas led him instantly to the White Queen. He bent towards her and she blinked apprehensively.

‘I didn’t realize,’ he said loudly, ‘that you knew this had happened.’

‘What?’

‘You know all about the accident?’

‘About what?’

‘This tragedy,’ shouted Alleyn.

‘Yes, indeed. Too distressing. My poor nephew.’

‘I’m afraid it has proved to be serious.’

‘He told me all about it this afternoon.’

‘What!’ Alleyn ejaculated.

‘All about it, poor fellow.’

‘Who did, Lady Katherine? Who told you?’

She shook her head at him. ‘Very sad,’ she said.

‘Lady Katherine, who told you what?’

‘Why, my nephew, Lord Charles Lamprey, to be sure. Who else? I do hope –’ She peered again at his card. ‘I do hope, Mr Alleyn, that the police will not be too severe. I’m sure he regrets it very deeply.’

Alleyn swallowed noisily. ‘Lady Katherine, what did he tell you?’

‘About Gabriel and himself. My nephew Wutherwood and my nephew Charles. I was so terrified that it would come to this.’

‘To what?’

‘Even now,’ said Lady Katherine, ‘after this has happened I still hope that Gabriel may soften.’

Across Alleyn’s thoughts ran a horrible phrase. ‘Gabriel shall grow hard and Gabriel shall grow soft.’ He pulled himself together, reassorted Lady Katherine’s series of remarks and thought he began to see daylight.

‘Of course,’ he said, ‘you left before – I mean when you left, Lord Wutherwood was still living.’

‘What did you say?’

‘I’m afraid,’ roared Alleyn, changing his course again, ‘I have bad news for you.’

‘Very bad news,’ agreed Lady Katherine with one of those half-knowledgeable phrases by which the deaf bewilder us. ‘Very bad indeed.’

Alleyn threw all delicacy overboard. He placed his face on a level with Lady Katherine’s and shouted, ‘He’s dead.’

Lady Katherine turned very pale and clasped her hands together. ‘No, no!’ she whispered. ‘You didn’t say – dead? Did you? I don’t hear very well and I thought – Please tell me. It wasn’t that?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘But – Oh, how terrible. And such a grave sin if – did he lay hands upon himself? Oh, poor Charlie. Poor Immy! And poor children!’

‘Good God!’ cried Alleyn. ‘Not Lord Charles! Lord Wutherwood. Lord Wutherwood is dead.’

He saw the colour return in patches to her large soft cheeks.

‘Gabriel?’ she said quite loudly. ‘Gabriel is dead?’

Alleyn nodded violently. For perhaps thirty seconds she said nothing and then on a sort of sigh she whispered astoundingly: ‘Then I needn’t have taken all this trouble.’