Death in White Tie by Ngaio Marsh

Author:Ngaio Marsh [Marsh, Ngaio]
Format: epub
Published: 2010-02-26T04:32:09.781000+00:00

"I don't know the name of his partner."

"A tall, big, blonde woman of about forty to forty-five, with an American accent. Perhaps you wouldn't mind calling--"

"All right, then, all right. She did."

"Was it as late as half-past four when they arrived?"

"I don't -- look here, I mean--"

"It's quite possible you may hear no more of this. The more exact your information, you know, the less troublesome our subsequent enquiries."

"Yes, I know, but we owe a DUTY to our guests."

"Do you know actually to within say ten minutes when this couple arrived? I think you do. If so, I most strongly advise you to tell me."

"Oh, all right. As a matter of fact it was a quarter-past four. There'd been such a long gap with nobody coming in -- we were practically full anyway of course -- that I did happen to notice the time."

"That's perfectly splendid. Now if you'll sign a statement to this effect I don't think I need bother you any more."

Mr Cuthbert fell into a profound meditation. Alleyn lit a cigarette and waited with an air of amiability. At last Mr Cuthbert said:

"Am I likely to be called as a witness to anything?"

"Not very. We'll spare you if we can."

"I could refuse."

"And I," said Alleyn, "could become a member of your club. You couldn't refuse that."

"Delighted, I'm sure," said Mr Cuthbert unhappily. "All right. I'll sign."

Alleyn wrote out a short statement and Mr Cuthbert signed it. Mr Cuthbert became more friendly and offered Alleyn a drink, which he refused with the greatest amiability. Mr Cuthbert embarked on a long eulogistic account of the Matador and the way it was run and the foolishness of night-club proprietors who attempted to elude the lawful restriction imposed on the sale of alcoholic beverages.

"It never pays," cried Mr Cuthbert. "Sooner or later they get caught. It's just damn silly."

A waiter burst into the room, observed something in Mr Cuthbert's eye, and flew out again. Mr Cuthbert cordially invited Alleyn to accompany him into the dance-room. He was so insistent that Alleyn allowed himself to be ushered through the entrance-hall and down a plum-coloured tunnel. The sound of the band swelled into a rhythmic all-pervading rumpus. Alleyn was aware of more silver sunflowers; of closely ranked tables and faces dimly lit from below, of a more distant huddle of people ululating and sliding in time to the band. He stood just inside the entrance, trying to accustom his eyes to this scene, while Mr Cuthbert prattled innocently "Ruddigore"--"We only cut respectable capers." He was about to turn away when he knew abruptly that someone was watching him. His eyes followed this intangible summons. He turned slowly to the left and there at a corner table sat Bridget O'Brien and Donald Potter.

They were both staring at him and with such intensity that he could not escape the feeling that they had wished to attract his attention. He deliberately met their gaze and returned it. For a second or two they looked at each other and then Bridget made a quick gesture, inviting him to join them.

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