Enter a Murderer by Ngaio Marsh Read Free Book Online

of them, now?”
    “Yes. Yes, I did. I spoke to Miss Max, who was over on the O. P. She said the rug on that side was in the way of the door opening, and I moved it for her. Then she sat down in the chair over there and took out her knitting. The knitting is ‘business’ in the part.”
    “Yes. She had it in a red bag.”
    “That’s right.” Simpson began to speak very rapidly. “And she didn’t move again before the curtain went up. I remember that because she laughed about her knitting and said she was trying to get it finished before we had run three weeks. It’s a scarf. She put it round my neck to measure it.”
    “Now, didn’t she sit in that chair for some time after the curtain went up? Wasn’t she still sitting there when Surbonadier loaded the revolver?”
    Through the crack in the door Nigel saw Simpson’s surprised glance at the inspector.
    “You’ve got a good memory,” he said. “That’s perfectly true.”
    “I’ve got a rotten memory really,” said Alleyn, “but the scene impressed me, you know. If you think back it’s a great help. Now, what did you do after you had straightened the mat and had your merry jape with the knitting?”
    “I think I had a look round the stage to see everything was in place.”
    “And then—?”
    “Then I went to the prompt box. I remember now that Surbonadier and Miss Emerald were standing upstage by the window and—” He stopped short.
    “Yes?”
    “That’s all.”
    “I don’t think so, Mr. Simpson. What were you going to say?”
    “Nothing.”
    “I can’t force you to speak, but do — do let me urge you to consider the seriousness of your position. It’s no good my pretending or trying to bluff. I’m no actor, Mr. Simpson. You put the cartridges in the drawer. It’s of first importance from your point of view to prove that they were dummy cartridges.”
    “It’s not for myself—” began Simpson hotly.
    “Then don’t for the love of Mike start some fool game of shielding another person. That sort of thing is either damn’ dangerous or just plain silly. However, it’s as you please, ”
    Simpson moved away from the range of Nigel’s vision and when he did speak his voice sounded remote.
    “You’re quite right, I suppose,” he said. “As for myself, I think I can clear up the cartridge business.”
    “All to the good. Now what were you going to say about Miss Janet Emerald?”
    “Honestly, it’s nothing really. Arthur Surbonadier seemed a bit upset. He — well, it’s my job as stage manager to look after that sort of thing — he was not himself.”
    “You mean he was drunk — I know he was.”
    “Oh — well — yes, that and something else. Sort of dangerous drunk. Well, when I went back to the prompt box Janet Emerald came after me and she said: ‘Arthur’s tight, George, and I’m nervous,’ and I said: ‘He’s giving a damn’ good show, anyway.’ (He was, you know.) Then she said: ‘That may be right, but he’s a beast, a filthy beast.’ And I heard her whisper — Oh, lord, it meant nothing—”
    “Well?”
    “She whispered to herself: ‘I could kill him’; and then she turned her back to me and stood with her hands on the desk. She talks that way. It meant nothing. I didn’t look at her again. I glanced at the book and said: ‘All clear, please,’ and they took up positions.”
    “And then?”
    “Then I said: ‘House lights’ to the switchboard man and flicked on the orchestra warning and the black-out warning. That scene opens on a black-out.”
    “Yes.”
    “Well, then I said: ‘Stand by please,’ and we blacked out and the scene went up.”
    “How long did the black-out last?”
    “For the first few speeches of the dialogue. About four minutes altogether, because we black out for a little before the curtain goes up. Then Surbonadier switched on the stage lamp.”
    “Who was on the stage, behind the scenes, all that time?”
    “Oh, the staff were up at the back. The property master