“Did you,” asked Alleyn, “have a written agreement?”

“Certainly we did. Drawn up by a lawyer. Each of us has got a copy. Want to see it, Chief?”

“Yes, we’d better have a look at it. I wonder where Mr. Garnette keeps his.”

“Most likely at his bank. He’s a wise coon!”

“You are convinced Garnette took the bonds?”

“I wish to God I wasn’t,” said Mr. Ogden unexpectedly. “I–I kind of reverenced that guy. Me! Maybe I’ll learn sense — next year.”

“Did you keep books?”

“Yes, sir. I did the books and Raveenje and Garnette could see them any time. Raveenje has got them home right now.”

“How did it work?”

“Like any regular company. I’m the biggest shareholder — I put up the most dollars. Garnette is paid a salary and he draws twenty per cent of the profits. That was square enough.”

“Do you know Mr. Garnette is a fellow-countryman of yours?”

Mr. Ogden looked as if he might be a sign for an inn called The Incredulous Man. “Forget it,” he said briefly. “Him! No, sir! We certainly breed one brand of polecat, but it ain’t called Garnette. Look at his line of talk! Where do you get that stuff, anyway?”

“You might say,” said Alleyn with a glance at Fox, “that the gentleman told me himself.”

“Then he piled up one more lie on to his total.”

“Ah, well,” sighed Alleyn, “I think that’s all for the moment, Mr. Ogden.”

“Good! But listen, Chief, I don’t want to get in wrong over the financial side of this joint. Get this. I put up the dollars. I saw it as a commercial proposition and I banked it. I’ve run my department straight and I’ve had no more’n my fair share. Same goes for Raveenje. He’s on the level all right. I look at it this way. This temple has brought colour and interest into folk’s lives. I’d thought it was something more than that, day-before-yesterday, when Garnette looked like a regular guy. But even if Garnette’s synthetic, and he certainly is, it’s been a great little party.” He paused and then repeated as though it was a manufacturer’s slogan: “It has brought colour and interest into otherwise drab and grey lives.”

“Together with hysteria and heroin, Mr. Ogden.”

Nigel, who had managed to make unostentatious shorthand notes throughout this interview, now watched Ogden eagerly. Would this shot go home? He decided that the American’s astonishment bore the unmistakable stamp of sincerity.

“What the sweltering hell d’you mean?” asked Ogden. “Heroin? Snow? Who’s doping in this crowd? By heck!” he added after a moment’s pause, “is that what’s wrong with young Pringle? Who’s started it?”

“To the best of my belief, Mr. Garnette.”

The American swore, heartily, solidly, and with lurid emphasis. Alleyn listened, politely, Fox with a dispassionate air of expert criticism,

“By God,” ended Mr. Ogden. “I wish to— I’d never touched this — concern. Never no more! It’s taken a murder to put me wise, but never no more. Say, listen, Chief, as God’s my witness I never — Aw, what’s the use?”

“It’s all right,” said Alleyn quietly. “We have been told you were not mixed up in it.”

“How’s that?”

“Pringle told me. Don’t worry about it too much, Mr. Ogden. We’re not going to pull you in for drug-running.”

Ogden looked nervously from Fox to Alleyn.

“Not for drug-running,” he said. “I’m not raving about the way you said it.”

“Now look here,” said Alleyn, “don’t you go making things more difficult by getting the wind up. I can’t go round like a child in a nursery game saying: ‘It isn’t you! It isn’t you! until I get to the ‘he.’ I can only repeat my well-worn slogan that the innocent are safe as long as they stick to the truth.”

“I hope to hell you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right. It’ll all come out what the Australians call ‘jakealoo.’ Have any of the Initiates ever been to Australia, do you know?”

“I don’t know, Chief. I haven’t.”

“They have a strong way of putting things there. But I wander. Don’t worry, Mr. Ogden.”

“That damned book! If only I knew when it went”

“Never mind about the book. I think I can guess when it went and who took it.”

“Well, ain’t you the clam’s cuticle!” said Mr. Ogden.

CHAPTER XVIII

Contribution from Miss Wade

After Mr. Ogden had gone Alleyn thrust his hands into his trouser pockets and stood staring at Fox.

“What are we to make of all this, Fox?” he asked, “What do you make of it? You’re looking very blank and innocent, and that means you’ve got hold of an idea.”

“Not to say an idea, sir. I wouldn’t go so far as that, I’ve been trying to string up a sequence as you might say.”

“May we hear it? I’ve got to such a state I hardly know which of these creatures is which.”

“Now then, sir,” said Fox good-humouredly, “you know we won’t believe that. Well, this is as far as I’ve got. We know Miss Quayne went out yesterday afternoon. We know she came here between two-thirty and three. We know she got some sort of a shock while she was here. We know the bonds were stolen, but we don’t know when. We know she was murdered last night.”

“True, every word of it.”

“Starting from there,” continued Fox in his slow way, “I’ve wondered. I’ve wondered whether she discovered the theft yesterday afternoon and whether the thief knew she discovered it. She used the word ‘discovery’ in her note. Now if Garnette pinched the bonds she didn’t know it was him or she wouldn’t have left that note for him. That’s if the note was meant for him, and I don’t see how it could be otherwise. Well, say the safe was open when she got here, and for some reason she wanted to see the bonds and found they were gone. She perhaps hung round waiting for him until the people began to come in for the afternoon show — the chauffeur chap said they did — and then came away leaving the note. I don’t quite like this,” continued Fox. “It’s got some awkward patches on it. Why did she put the bonds away all tidily? Would the safe be unlocked?”

“She might,” said Alleyn, “have met somebody who said something to upset her. Something about—”

“I say,” interrupted Nigel. “Suppose she met somebody who said they suspected Garnette of foul play and she wanted to warn Garnette against them? How’s that?”

“Not a bad idea, sir,” said Fox. “Not a bad idea at all. Garnette got wind of it and thought he’d polish the lady off before she had time to alter the Will.”

“But how did he get wind of it?” objected Alleyn. “Not through the note. He never read it. And if she wanted to warn him, why should she alter her Will?”

“That’s so,” sighed Fox. “By the way, sir, what are the terms of the Will? Has she left him a fair sum?”

Alleyn told him and Fox looked intensely gratified.

“Ten thousand. And twenty-one thousand for the Church. That’s motive enough if you like.”

“How much further did you get with your wondering, Brer Fox? Had you fitted in the two scraps of paper we found in the fireplace?”

“Can’t say I did, sir. Somebody warning the Reverend about something, and it seems to refer to Mrs. Candour, as Mr. Bathgate pointed out. Judging from their position in the grate they were part of a letter thrown there some time during the evening, or at any rate some time yesterday.”

“Certainly, but I don’t agree about Mrs. Candour. I’ve got the thing here. Take another look at it.”

Alleyn produced the two scraps of paper.

“I thought at the time,” he said slowly, “that they were written by Miss Quayne’s old nurse.”

“Good Lord!” ejaculated Fox. “How d’you get that out of it?”

“Yes,” said Nigel, “how the devil did you? He wouldn’t tell me, Inspector Fox.”

“Pretty good, isn’t it?” said Alleyn complacently. “Not so good, however, when the first glory wears off. It’s written in green pencil and there was a green pencil on Miss Quayne’s desk. The M — S is the remains of ‘Miss’ and the CA the beginnings of ‘Cara.’ That’s the top of an R, not an N. The old girl wrote to Garnette warning him off. I fancy it read something like this: ‘Sir: This is to warn you that if you [something or another] with Miss Cara, I am determined to give you in charge. There’s a law in England to save women from men like you.’ Something like that.”