Inspector Alleyn 3-Book Collection 2: Death in Ecstasy, Vintage Murder, Artists in Crime by Ngaio Marsh

Author:Ngaio Marsh [Marsh, Ngaio]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780007531363
Google: XcR8lhT3fWIC
Amazon: B00D0VYEB2
Publisher: Harper
Published: 2013-07-18T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 18

Duologue

Alleyn did not at once reply. He ws thinking that by a sort of fluke he was about to reach a far deeper layer of Carolyn’s personality than was usually revealed. It was as though the top layers of whimsicality and charm and gaiety had become transparent and through them appeared – not perhaps the whole innermost Carolyn but at least a part of her. ‘And this because she is unhappy and I have jerked her away from her usual background and brought her to a place where the air is very clear and heady, and there is the sound of a mountain stream and the voice of a bird with a note like a little gong.’

Aloud he said:

‘But I can believe it very easily. I thought you seemed fond of him.’

He began to break up a branch of dry driftwood.

‘Not romantically in love with him,’ continued Carolyn. ‘My poor fat Alfie! He was not a romantic husband, but he was so kind and understanding. He never minded whether I was amusing or dull. He thought it impossible that I could be dull. I didn’t have to bother about any of that.’

Alleyn laid his twigs between two flat stones and tucked a screw of paper under them.

‘I know,’ he said. ‘There are people to whom one need not show off. It’s a great comfort sometimes. I’ve got one of that kind.’

‘Your wife! But I didn’t know—’

Alleyn sat back on his heels and laughed. ‘No, no. I’m talking about a certain Detective-Inspector Fox. He’s large and slow and innocently straightforward. He works with me at the Yard. I never have to show off to old Fox, bless him. Now let’s see if it will light. You try, while I fill the billy.’

He went down to the creek and, standing on a boulder, held the billy against the weight of the stream. The water was icy cold and swift-running, and the sound of it among the stones was so loud that it seemed to flow over his senses. Innumerable labials all sounding together with a deep undertone that muttered among the boulders. It was pleasant to lift the brimming billy out of the creek and to turn again towards the bank where Carolyn had lit the fire. A thin spiral of smoke rose from it, pungent and aromatic.

‘It’s alight – it’s going!’ cried Carolyn, ‘and doesn’t it smell good?’

She turned her face up to him. Her eyes were still dimmed with tears, her hair was not quite smooth, her lips parted tremulously. She looked beautiful.

‘I would be so happy,’ she said, ‘if there was nothing but this.’

Alleyn set the can of water on the stones and built up the fire. They moved away from it and lit cigarettes.

‘I am glad you do not go into ecstasies over nature,’ said Alleyn. ‘I was rather afraid you would.’

‘I expect I should have – yesterday. Dear Mr Alleyn, will you ask me all your questions now? I would like to get it over, if you don’t mind.

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