Inspector Alleyn 3-Book Collection 3: Death in a White Tie, Overture to Death, Death at the Bar. Ngaio Marsh. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Ngaio Marsh
Издательство: HarperCollins
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Жанр произведения: Зарубежные детективы
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9780007531370
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most unfortunate. I wanted if possible to save her appearing at the inquest.’

      ‘When is the inquest?’

      ‘Tomorrow morning, sir.’

      Carrados glared at him.

      ‘She will certainly be too unwell for any such thing. I shall see that her doctor forbids it. And it is equally impossible for her to see you this afternoon. I know that if I were to disturb her, which I have no intention of doing as she is asleep in bed, she would refuse. That’s definite.’

      The door opened and the footman came in.

      ‘Her ladyship, sir, wishes me to say that if Mr Alleyn has a few minutes to spare she would be very pleased to see him.’

      He waited, gently closing the door on an extremely uncomfortable silence.

       CHAPTER 16 Lady Carrados Looks Back

      Alleyn followed the footman upstairs, leaving Fox in the library to make the best of a sticky situation.

      The footman handed Alleyn over to a maid who took him to Lady Carrados. She was not in bed. She was in her boudoir erect in a tall blue chair and wearing the look that had prompted Paddy O’Brien to compare her with a Madonna. She held out her hands when she saw Alleyn and as he took them a phrase came into his mind. He thought: ‘She is an English lady and these are an English lady’s hands, thin, unsensual, on the end of delicate thin arms.’

      She said: ‘Roderick! I do call you Roderick, don’t I?’

      Alleyn said: ‘I hope so. It’s a long time since we met, Evelyn.’

      ‘Too long. Your mother tells me about you sometimes. We spoke to each other today on the telephone. She was so very kind and understanding, Roderick, and she told me that you would be too. Do sit down and smoke. I should like to feel that you are not a great detective but an old friend.’

      ‘I should like to feel that too,’ said Alleyn. ‘I must tell you, Evelyn, that I was on the point of asking to see you when I got your message.’

      ‘An official call?’

      ‘Yes, bad luck to it. You’ve made everything much pleasanter by asking for me.’

      She pressed the thin hands together and Alleyn, noticing the bluish lights on the knuckles, remembered how Troy had wanted to paint them.

      Lady Carrados said, ‘I suppose Herbert didn’t want you to see me?’

      ‘He wasn’t very pleased with the idea. He thought you were too tired and distressed.’

      She smiled faintly: ‘Yes,’ she said, and it was impossible to be sure that she spoke ironically. ‘Yes, he is very thoughtful. What do you want to ask me, Roderick?’

      ‘All sorts of dreary questions, I’m afraid. I’m sorry about it. I know you were one of Bunchy’s friends.’

      ‘So were you.’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘What is your first question?’

      Alleyn went over the final scene in the hall and found she had nothing new to tell him. She answered him quickly and concisely. He could see that his questions held no particular significance for her and that her thoughts were lying in wait, anxiously, for what was yet to come. As soon as he began to speak of the green room on the top landing he knew that he touched her more nearly. He felt a profound distaste for his task. He went on steadily, without emphasis.

      ‘The green sitting-room with the telephone. We know that he used the telephone and are anxious to find out if he was overheard. Someone says you left your bag there, Evelyn. Did you?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Dimitri returned it to you?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘When was this?’

      ‘Soon after I had come up from supper – about half-past twelve or a quarter to one.’

      ‘Not as late as one o’clock?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Why are you so certain of this, please?’

      ‘Because,’ said Lady Carrados, ‘I was watching the time rather carefully.’

      ‘Were you? Does the peak of a successful ball come at a specific moment?’

      ‘Well, one rather watches the time. If they don’t begin to drift away after supper it looks as if it will be a success.’

      ‘Where were you when Dimitri returned your bag?’

      ‘In the ballroom.’

      ‘Did you notice Bunchy at about this time?’

      ‘I – don’t think – I remember.’

      The hands were pressed closer together as if she held her secret between them; as if it might escape. Her lips were quite white.

      The door opened and Bridget came in. She looked as if she had been crying.

      ‘Oh, Donna,’ she said, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know –’

      ‘This is my girl, Roderick. Bridget, this is Sarah’s uncle.’

      ‘How do you do,’ said Bridget. ‘The detective one?’

      ‘The detective one.’

      ‘Sarah says you’re quite human really.’

      ‘That’s very kind of Sarah,’ said her uncle drily.

      ‘I hope you’re not heckling my mother,’ said Bridget, sitting on the arm of the chair. She had an air of determined sprightliness.

      ‘I’m trying not to. Perhaps you could help us both. We are talking about last night.’

      ‘Well, I might be able to tell you something frightfully important without knowing it myself, sort of, mightn’t I?’

      ‘It’s happened before now,’ said Alleyn with a smile. ‘We were talking about your mother’s bag.’

      ‘The one she left upstairs and that I found?’

      ‘Bridgie!’ whispered Lady Carrados. ‘Oh, Bridgie!’

      ‘It’s all right, Donna, my sweet. That had nothing to do with Bunchy. Oh – he was there, wasn’t he? In the supper-room when I brought it to you?’

      Bridget, perched on the arm of the wing chair, could not see her mother’s face and Alleyn thought: ‘Now we’re in for it.’

      He said: ‘You returned the bag in the supper-room, did you?’

      Lady Carrados suddenly leant back and closed her eyes.

      ‘Yes,’ Bridget said, ‘and it was simply squashed full of money. But why the bag? Does it fit somewhere frightfully subtle? I mean was the motive really money and did the murderer think Donna gave Bunchy the money, sort of? Or something?’

      Lady Carrados said: ‘Bridgie, darling. I’m by way of talking privately to Mr Alleyn.’

      ‘Oh, are you, darling? I’m sorry. I’ll whizz off. Shall I see you again before you go, Mr Alleyn?’

      ‘Please, Miss Bridget.’

      ‘Well, come along to the old nursery. I’ll be there.’

      Bridget looked round the corner of the chair at her mother, who actually managed to give her a smile. She went out and Lady Carrados covered her face with her hands.

      ‘Don’t try to tell me, Evelyn,’ said Alleyn gently. ‘I’ll see if I can tell you. Come now, it may not be so dreadful,