Enter a Murderer by Ngaio Marsh

manner. “You’re all hysterical. Me! Do I seem like a murderer, baby?”
    “No, no — I’m mad. It was so awful, Jacco. Jacco, it was so awful.”
    “M-m — m-m — m-m,” growled Mr. Saint soothingly.
    “Quite,” Alleyn’s voice cut in. “Most unpleasant. I am sure you must be longing to get away from it all, Miss Emerald.”
    “I’ll drive you home,” offered Jacob Saint. He and Miss Emerald stood side by side now and Nigel could see how pale they both were.
    “An excellent idea.” Alleyn’s voice sounded close to the door. “But first of all may I just put a few questions to Miss Emerald?”
    “You may not,” said Saint. “If you want anything you can come and see her to-morrow. Get that?”
    “Oh, yes, rather. Full in the teeth. Afraid, however, it makes no difference. There’s a murder charge hovering round waiting for somebody, Mr. Saint, and shall we say a drama is being produced which you do not control and in which you play a part that may or may not be significant? To carry my flight of fancy a bit farther, I may add that the flat-footed old Law is stage manager, producer, and critic. And I, Mr. Saint, in the words of an old box-office success, ‘I, my Lords, embody the law.’ Sit down if you want to and please keep quiet. Now then, Miss Emerald.”

CHAPTER VI
Into the Small Hours
    Nigel took down every word of Alleyn’s little speech with the liveliest enthusiasm. At the conclusion he wrote in brackets: “Noise of theatre magnate sitting down.” In a moment he was busy again. Alleyn had concentrated on Miss Janet Emerald.
    “Do you mind if I light my pipe, Miss Emerald? Thank you. Oh — cigarette? Those are Turks and those are — but I expect you know that one.”
    “No, thank you.”
    A match scraped, and Alleyn spoke between sucks at his pipe.
    “Well, now. Will you tell me, as far as you know, how the business of loading the revolver was managed?” (“But he knows all that,” thought Nigel impatiently.)
    “I–I know nothing about it — I had nothing to do with it,” said Janet Emerald.
    “Of course not. But perhaps you noticed who put the blank cartridges in the drawer, and when.”
    “I didn’t notice at all — anything about the cartridges.”
    “Did you never see them put in the drawer?”
    “I didn’t notice.”
    “Really? You didn’t concern yourself about whether they were there, or say to Mr. Simpson that you were terrified he would forget them?”
    “I couldn’t have done so. What makes you think I said anything of the sort? Jacco! I don’t know what I’m saying. Please — please, can’t I go?”
    “Don’t move, Mr. Saint, I shall soon be done. Now, Miss Emerald, please answer my questions as best you can and as simply as you can. Believe me, an innocent person has nothing to fear and everything to gain in telling the truth. You are not the silly, bewildered little thing you pretend to be. You are a large and, I should say, very intelligent woman.”
    “Jacco!”
    “And I suggest that you behave like one. Now, please — did you or did you not notice Mr. Simpson placing the cartridges to-night, and did you, or did you not, remark that you were afraid he’d forget to do so?”
    “No, no, no — it’s all a lie.”
    “And did you afterwards go and stand with your hands on the desk?”
    “Never — I was talking to Arthur — I didn’t notice what George Simpson was doing — he’s telling lies. If that’s what he says, he’s lying.”
    “What were you saying to Mr. Surbonadier? It must have been of some interest to absorb all your attention.”
    “I don’t remember.”
    “Really?”
    “I don’t remember. I don’t remember.”
    “Thank you. Fox, ask Miss Susan Max if she’ll be good enough to come here.”
    “That mean we can go?” Saint’s voice made Nigel jump — he had forgotten the proprietor of the Unicorn.
    “In a minute. The night is young. How impatient you are, to be sure.”
    “What sort of a breed are you?”