Black Plumes

by Margery Allingham

  Gabrielle took the largest chair by the fire and Dorothea stood beside her. Nothing would persuade her to sit down, and she remained, solid and formidable, between her mistress and the rest of the room.

  Frances sat in a comer of a chesterfield, with Godolphin perched stiffly on the arm beside her, while Miss Dorset placed herself next to the occasional table where the telephone stood. The three servants sat together near the door. They had arranged themselves in order of seniority and succeeded in looking like a small jury in their effort to appear intelligent yet nothing to do with the case.

  It was when Bridie had taken up his own position behind the Louis XV table, with Withers at his elbow, that Frances first became nervously aware of the clock. The gilt sunburst with the garden face was as familiar to her as the room itself, but today it was a new and menacing thing.

  It was half-past two, later than she had thought, and she moved uneasily in her quilted corner. There was a tremendous sense of constriction in the room. No one breathed easily, and the entire gathering was aware of that tingling sensation in the soles of the feet which comes just before the worst is told.

  Frances stared resolutely at the fire. It was like being in a plane which had lost its undercarriage, she decided. Enough juice for another hour and a half before the crash and meanwhile nothing to do but wait.

  Bridie's sibilant voice cut into her thoughts.

  "It's against all the rules of police procedure for me to question any witness in front of another," he was saying pleasantly. "There's absolutely no question about that. However, I'm not proposing to keep ye here in silence until four o'clock so I've decided to give ye a sort of general lecture on the two crimes, and when I come to any bit that I'm not sure about then I shall expect your intelligent cooperation."

  His simple words and confiding smile were so naive that they were almost deceived, all, that is, save Frances, who had seen the old Scot in this particular dangerous mood once before.

  "Excellent," said Gabrielle distinctly, just enough patronage in her tone to remind the inspector effectively of the great ladies of the North when he had been a child. He glanced at her sharply but comforted himself, as he had done then, with the recollection of his infinite mental superiority

  "No," he said, glancing about him with the bland affability which was so misleading, since you're none of ye professionally skilled in the art of investigation I'll commence ma observations with a few general remarks. In this particular affair, which is all the more shocking' to ye since you're all so close to it, I want ye to get into your minds a large square of boar-rd on which there is a half-finished jigsaw puzzle. Ye can see by the shape of the hole which is left that ye need a human head to complete the picture."

  He paused and his bright eyes swept round the gathering with horrific good humor.

  "A human head with a recognizable face."

  It was an oddly unpleasant simile and, coming on top of the strain which was already so great, its effect was unnerving. Bridie seemed quite pleased with it, however, for he continued happily.

  "The missing pieces of the jigsaw are held by different individuals, and most of them are in this room, no question about that. Each parson considering his own piece of puzzle is confronted by a wee mystery, but as soon as they're all on the table together the little chuts and corners will begin to fit and gradually the face will appear. it's jolly ingenious."

  "Jolly good work, sir." murmured Godolphin under his breath to Frances, who did not hear him. Her eyes were on the clock. Fifteen minutes gone already.

  "Whoever," Bridie swept on, "the first thing to do is to define the outline of the head. That's the main consideration. The background of the picture has to he built up first, and the main art of this piece of construction is to weed out all unnecessary matter maybe I'm too complicated for ye?"

  "On the contrary." Gabrielle’s voice was sharp. "We find you extraordinarily clear. Go on."

  "I'm glad to hear it, ma'am." said Bridie with what appeared to be innocent satisfaction."We'll now descend to the particular. Over three weeks ago Mr. Robert Madrigal disappeared. A week later his body was discovered and on the same day Henry Lucar sailed for New York. As soon as he received word of the occurrence he returned, whoever, of his own free will. He was examined by the police and permitted to go home. The following day he called a conference of the relations and associates of Robert Madrigal and was himself mysteriously murdered by the same weapon which had killed his chief. This pernicious act took place only a few minutes after that gathering had broken up and while most of it was still in the gallery. That's an undisputed fact. We must cut out the unnecessary factor-r. The murder of Henry Lucar does not merit our immediate consideration and I'll tell ye for why. Henry Lucar was a blackmailing' scoundrel, no question of that. We have evidence to show that during his lifetime Robert Madrigal paid out considerable sums of money which coincided in amount and date with sums paid into Lucar's account. We also know that just before Mr. Madrigal disappeared he and Lucar were both present in the gallery when one of Mr. Field's pictures was slashed by an unknown hand. This was the last of several such incidents and the inference is that Lucar did the mischief to force Mr. Madrigal to face up to the fact that he was serious in some last and more iniquitous demand. It was a show of strength, did you see?"

  "Yes." Frances bit the word off hastily and the old man beamed at her.

  "It's a bit of a crumble," he said, "but it soon straightens oot. Well, Lucar was a blackmailer and so it was never likely that he did away with Mr. Madrigal before he'd squeezed all the choice out of him. Moreover, I am convinced that Lucar left England before he knew for certain that Madrigal was dead. As soon as the news reached him he scuttled home, proved his alibi beyond question, and set off to blackmail again. What hold he had over Mr. Madrigal we do not know, but we do know the almighty secret he shared with someone else. He knew who killed Madrigal, ye see? As soon as he heard the man was dead he knew who had killed him, and when he called that conference this time yesterday afternoon he made the fact jolly plain to someone in that room. Whether he made it clear to the murderer or to an accomplice of the murderer does not matter. He let out that he knew the truth, and within an hour he was dead himself. That's a simple story. We've got the motive and in time we'll get the parson concerned. but for the moment we can disregard Lucar altogether. When we get the one head filled in that picture will do for the other jigsaw as well."

  He paused and looked up at the clock and every eye in the room followed him. It was five past three. Miss Dorset blew her nose and the servants shuffled uneasily. The emotional temperature in the room was rising to fever heat.

  "The main picture," continued Bridie calmly, "concerns Robert Madrigal, as it always did. A great many of the chigetty bits are in ma own hands and already I've built up ma surround. The first piece we need is a question of motive. The textbooks tell us there are seventeen motives for murder, but I've never bother ma head about more than three—love, money and revenge. And the principal one in ma experience is money. It'll probably surprise one or two of ye to hear that ye all had the best money motives in the world for killing Madrigal."

  He made the final statement conversationally, as if he were relating some interesting academic point, and hurried on before anyone could protest.

  "He was ruining ye all. Unless something drastic was done he'd have steered the fir-rm into liquidation. Some of ye know this and some of ye don't, but for the purpose o' clarity I'm going to have it all oot on the table. Some years ago Robert Madrigal put his entire fortune into the finest of Ivory, which had suffered badly both in the wars and in the slump. By doing so he acquired very considerable executive powers and from the very first he proved a dangerous and unbusinesslike parson. Isn't that so, Miss Dorset?"

  "Yes, from the beginning." The woman's voice stuck in her throat and came out hoarsely, so that they all looked at her.

  "Mr. Meyrick Ivory was deeply concerned. naturally," Bridie went on placidly. "In the e
arly days, when repeated cautioning proved of no avail, he did his best to—shall we say—divert Mr. Madrigal's attention and even persuaded him to take par-rt in an overseas journey. When he returned, however, he undid much of the good work which had been accomplished in his absence. His chief fault seems to have been cluttering obstinacy. In most cases where a divergence of opinion occurs between two partners generally one o' them raised capital to buy the other parson out, and this Mr. Ivory seems to have attempted several rimes in the past two years. Whoever, Mr. Madrigal was always obstinate. Even in the face of his losses he stuck to his conviction that it was Mr. Ivory's conservatism and not his own unorthodox goings on which was letting' the fir-rm done. His wife implored him to be reasonable, but he refused and there the matter stood when Mr. Ivory went to China. He had legitimate and important business there, don't forget that. A very fine collection o' paintings on silk, the property o’ the imperial government, were about to come into the market and he was anxious to be on the spot. Meanwhile Mr. Madrigal remained in charge. With his senior partner away he became more and more default. He drew large sums out of the business, which we now see went directly to Lucar, and his general behavior caused considerable alarm wherever it was understood."

  His soft voice ceased for a moment, and he took out his watch and laid it on the table before him, so that the lid of the hunter case screened its face from the nearest of them.

  "Well," he said, "there are few things more demoralizing than to see one's bread and butter deliberately wasted by a fool over whom one has no control. Some fools can be managed. They can be inveigled or startled into common sense. But there is one type o' fool who is impossible. By hook or by crook he has got hold o’ the tiller o' the boat and his temperament is such that he'll run her on the rocks rather than let anyone else take a hand at steer-ring. That is the kind of fool who makes the meekes among us turn to thoughts o' violence. A great fir-rm has as many traditions as a great school or a great regiment, and it often inspires the same kind of jealous loyalty. I only mention this because there were quite a number of parsons intimately concealed with the fir-rm who knew the real state o' affairs. Miss Dorset knew, of course. So did Mrs. Madrigal. And so did yon, Mrs. Ivory, unless I'm mistaken.

  "Yes, I knew," said old Gabrielle quietly. "I knew."

  If Bridie was pleased by the admission he did not show it. Like the famous heathen Chinese, whom he was beginning to resemble more and more at every dragging moment, his smile was childlike and bland.

  "It wouldn't surprise me to hear-r that ye confided yer worries to your lifelong personal attendant."

  "I knew," said Dorothea stolidly and regarded him with unwinking eyes.

  "And you." Bridie swung round on Norris. "You've been in service here for twenty years. Maybe the situation was not unknown to you."

  Norris staggered to his feet. He was green with nervousness and his words slurred and bubbled over each other.

  "I have enjoyed Mr. Meyrick's confidence for a number of years, sir. I think I did know a little of—of the matter."

  "Ha!" Bridie's eyes glanced from his own watch to the clock and back again. It was ten past three. "Mr. Meyrick, he knew. Mr. Meyrick Ivory knew. He was the principal parson involved. He went off to China; that is to say he left England fourteen weeks before Madrigal met his death. When I was a young man China was as far away as the stars, almost, and even must a great many of us are inclined to think of it as a remote continent only vaguely connected with the Western hemisphere. However, with the coming of the new airplane distance has ceased to exist, as ye might say. Let me read you a few interesting facts. By Imperial Airways Hong Kong to Bangkok takes fourteen hours only. From Bangkok to Calcutta the flying time is nine and a half. From Calcutta to Karachi is another nine hours, and it is possible to fly from Karachi to Southampton by ordinary passenger plane in less than three days. This is not evidence. It's just another little bit o' the jigsaw which may not fit in with the rest and I only... "

  "I protest."

  The formal yet melodramatic objection from the other side of the room shook the already electric atmosphere with explosion force, and they all turned to look at Miss Dorset, who had risen, her face patched red and white and her lips dangerously unsteady. In the moment of absolute silence which followed the telephone on the table beside her began to ring, its shrill voice screaming noisily in the breathless room, Bridie smiled.

  "Take yer call," he said.

  They watched her as she took up the receiver and saw her hand tremble and the blank, frozen expression growing on her face as she listened.

  "Yes." she said. "Yes, Miss Dorset here. Yes, I did enquirer. Messrs Ivory Limited, Sallet Square. Yes. Yes. Yes. I see. Yes. Thank you."

  She put down the receiver very slowly and the click of the disconnecting wires was heard clearly all over the room.

  "Well?" Bridie inquired. 'And did ye get your answer?"

  She tried to speak but gave it up and nodded.

  "And your suspicions were correct?"

  "Oh, I don't know. Don't ask me." Miss Dorset collapsed in her chair and covered her face with her hands.

  Bridie regarded her with soft-eyed sympathy which might or might not have been genuine.

  "Poor body," he said, adding almost without punctuation, "we must have to consider the night o' the crime. The last parson known to have seen Robert Madrigal alive is David Field."

  Although she had been waiting for it the name jolted Frances unbearably and again she looked at the sunburst clock and saw that the gilt hands had reached the bottom of the circle and were creeping up again. Bridie glanced at her thoughtfully and continued, his sibilant accent caressing each word as it left his mouth.

  "Ye all know what happened. Mr. Field came to talk to Mr. Madrigal about his engagement to Miss Frances Ivory and both men went into the garden room together where the blinds were not done. What some of ye may not know is that Henry Lucar joined them there and he and Mr. Field had a few words. Not unnaturally Mr. Field objected to Henry Lucar's inclusion at such a delicate conference. Lucar had a wretched manner which charred on Mr. Field’s susceptibilities and he disposed of him pretty sharply. Lucar went. Field is a formidable parson for all his artistic profession, and the wee ratty Lucar soon took to his heels. What happened next is particularly interesting. Madrigal, frightened at the way Lucar had been treated, apprehensive because of the hold the man had over him ye see, lost his head entirely and said something to Field. I have the exact words here. According to the evidence which I have collected. Madrigal turned to Field and said: 'You've waited a long time for a woman with money and now you're not taking any chances, are ye?" "

  He paused and glanced round the room. "Not a very nice observation."

  "My God, how like him," murmured Godolphin. "David hit him I suppose?"

  "He did." Bridie nodded his approval at the right answer. "He hit him on the jaw, scraping his own knuckles and putting the man clean out for an instant so that he fell on the floor. At least that's Field's story. But Miss Ivory herself, who happened to be in the yard about that time or a few seconds after, said she saw the two of them standing talking. Would ye like to retract that statement, Miss Ivory'? It's very clear why ye made it."

  "Yes, I would." Frances made the admission huskily and Bridie nodded at Withers, who began to write.

  The Scot went on.

  'This method of sifting the pieces is unorthodox but it's remarkably efficient. We're getting on very nicely with our afternoon's diversion." he observed with horrific geniality. 'The shape o' the head is taking place before our eyes. The pieces are thumping into position. To return to the two men in the garden room: there was Madrigal lying in the chair where Field had lifted him, a disfiguring contusion swelling up on his face. There was Field standing before him, looking down."

  The phrase touched Frances through the numb wretchedness which was slowly consuming her. If David had not made a dash for it. If only he had done what even Godolphin saw was the intelligen
t thing and had stayed to face the inquiry. She looked at the clock again. Twelve minutes. Only twelve minutes.

  Bridie was proceeding with his unhurried narrative.

  "According to his story Field went out into the hall and fetched Madrigal's hat and coat. He also turned out the hall lights because they intended to go out the other way. Madrigal was naturally anxious not to be seen in his condition and Field was not keen on the story being broadcast either, for he was an impulsive chap with a reputation for hitting oot. The arrangement was that they should go down to a doctor together to get the face patched up a bit. Field left the hat and coat in the room, pulled down the blinds, and then went upstairs to say good night to his young lady, a fact which she corroborates. He was with her a matter of five minutes and then he came done to the room again."

  He paused and looked at them all considerately.

  "From this point," he said, "his story becomes very important, because if it's not true then there's only one conclusion we can draw from his lying. He says his hand was already on the garden room door when he hear-rd Madrigal speaking to someone inside. The words were quite distinct and he remembered them. According to Field, Madrigal said, 'Why on earth did ye come here at this moment of all times?" Well, Field took it for granted that it was Lucar who had come back, and since, so he says, he'd become pretty fed up with the two of them, he went off home and left Madrigal to get his other friend to take him along to a doctor. That is Field's statement, and you may feel as I did, that it is highly unsatisfactory, but we mustn’t forget that Miss Ivory came running from the yard because she thought there was someone out in the wee shed down there, and that someone could not have been Lucar, because of Miss Dorset's evidence he was accounted for at that rime. Still, Field admits that he handled the hat and coat and that is highly significant. Field got the hat and coat out of the lobby across the hall. No, anyone might have seen him do that and this whole story might have been an invention of his to cover that contingency. I can't get it out o' ma head that the murderer, whoever he or she was, saw in the absence of the hat an' coat a remarkably good way to ensure that the man would not be searched for in the house. The murderer threw the hat and coat into the cupboard after the dead man."