Inspector Alleyn 3-Book Collection 2: Death in Ecstasy, Vintage Murder, Artists in Crime

‘I see your argument, of course. The danger to which I refer had nothing to do with physical injury.’

‘You did not anticipate this tragedy?’

‘A thousand times, no. I? How should I?’

‘Then what was threatened?’

‘Her virtue, M. l’Inspecteur.’

‘I see,’ said Alleyn.

De Ravigne eyed him for a moment and then got up. He moved restlessly about the room, as though he was trying to come to some decision. At last he fetched up in front of Alleyn and began to speak in French rapidly and with a certain suppressed vehemence. Inspector Fox breathed heavily and leant forward slightly in his chair.

‘Judge of my position, monsieur. I loved her very much. I have loved her very much for so many years. Ever since she was a dark jeune fille at a convent with my sister. At one time I thought that she would consent to a betrothal. It was in France when she had first made her début. Her guardian, Madame de Verné, approved. It was in every way suitable. My own family, too. Then – I do not know how it came about, but perhaps it was her temperament to change as it was mine to remain constant – but she grew colder and – but this is of no importance. She came to London where we met again after a year. I found myself still her slave. She allowed me to see her. We became, after your English fashion, “friends.” It was to amuse her, to interest her, that I myself introduced her to this accursed temple. I did not know then what I know now of the character of Father Garnette.’

‘How long did it take you to find him out?’ asked Alleyn.

De Ravigne lifted his shoulders very slightly and returned to English.

‘I do not know. I was not interested in his morals. It was the ceremonies, the ritual, the bizarre but intriguing form of paganism, that appealed to me. If I became aware that he amused himself, that he had his mistresses, it did not at all disconcert me. It was not inconsistent with the pagan doctrine. One lives one’s own life. I cannot say when I first realized that the rôle of Chosen Vessel held a certain significance for this priest. But I am not blind. Dagmar was elected, and – in short, monsieur, I am a man of the world and I saw, accepted, and disregarded l’affaire Candour. It was none of my business.’

‘Precisely,’ said Alleyn, ‘but when Miss Quayne became a candidate –’

‘Ah, then, monsieur, I was in agony. Again, judge of my position. I had introduced her to this place, forgetting her temperament, her enthusiasms, her – what is your word? – her whole-heartedness. I myself was responsible. I was revolted, remorseful, distracted. I wrote the letter you hold in your hand.’

‘And continued,’ said Alleyn, ‘to draw your dividends?’

‘Sacré nom!’ said de Ravigne. ‘So you know of that also?’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘Then it will be difficult to persuade you that it was my intention yesterday and is doubly so today, to withdraw my capital from this affair.’

‘Five hundred, isn’t it? asked Alleyn.

‘Yes. If I did not make this gesture before, M. l’Inspecteur, it was because I was unwilling to bring about a fracas which would have involved more persons than Father Garnette himself. When I first attended the little temple in Great Holland Road I found it in need of funds. I could not afford to give this sum, but I could afford to lend it. Mr Ogden was also willing, and on a larger scale, to invest money. I left the business arrangements to Father Garnette and Mr Ogden, who is a man of commerce. Myself, I have not the business temperament. But rest assured I shall withdraw. One cannot suffer oneself to become financially associated with such canaille.’

‘Do you call Mr Ogden canaille, monsieur?’

‘Monsieur, I refer rather to the priest. But Ogden, he is very much of the people. His perceptions are not acute. He is not fastidious. No doubt he will not feel any delicacy in accepting his interest from this investment. As for the priest – but I prefer not to discuss the priest.’

‘Do you know that Mr Garnette has been giving drugs to Pringle, Mrs Candour and Miss Quayne?’

De Ravigne did not answer at once. He lit a cigarette and then with an apology offered the box.

‘No?’ he said. ‘Then perhaps your pipe?’

‘Not just at the moment, thank you very much. About this drug business?’

‘Ah, yes. Your information does not surprise me.’

‘You knew, then?’

‘Monsieur, I must repeat that the private affairs of the Initiates does not interest me.’

‘But – Miss Quayne?’

‘I cannot believe that she indulged in the vice.’

‘Nevertheless –’

‘I cannot believe it,’ said de Ravigne violently, ‘and I will not discuss it.’

‘Ah, well,’ said Alleyn. ‘let us leave it then. Apropos of the letter, monsieur. Why did you emphasize your desire that she should destroy it?’

‘I have already told you of my distaste for having my letters read. That old Hebborn! She has her nose in everything and she is antagonistic to me. I could not endure that she should intrude her nose into it.’

‘Then why not write in French?’

‘But I wished to impress her of my calmness and deliberation,’ said M. de Ravigne smoothly. ‘If I wrote in French, allowing my emotion full scope, what would she think? She would think: “Ah, he has shot himself off at the deep ending. This Gallic temperament! Tomorrow he will be calm again.” So I write coolly in English and request that she destroys this letter.’

‘Ah, yes, that explains the postscript.’ Alleyn got to his feet and then, as if it were an afterthought, he said:

‘The book on chemistry. I understand you have seen it before?’

De Ravigne hesitated for the fraction of a moment before he replied: ‘It is strange you should say that. I myself received the impression that I had encountered the book, but where? I cannot recollect.’

‘Was it in Mr Ogden’s house?’

‘But of course! In his house. He showed it to me. How could I have forgotten? The priest was there and looked at it too. And the others. It was too stupid of me to forget. I remember I upset a glass of whisky and soda near it. Ogden fancied the book might be of value, I think, but it was of no interest to me. That is why I did not remember it. So the book is the good Ogden’s book? That is interesting, monsieur, is it not?’

‘Any information about the book is interesting. And speaking of books, M. de Ravigne, may I have the books of the Sacred Flame Company? I understand you’ve got them here.’

‘The books? Ah, yes. The good Ogden insisted that I glance at them. They seem to be in order. Naturally the theft of the bonds would not appear. Perhaps the good Ogden himself has seen to that. Perhaps he and the priest together have arranged these little matters. You see I am bitter, monsieur. I am not easily made suspicious, but when my suspicions are aroused – But the books! You shall have them, certainly.’

He rang for his servant, who produced the books and gave them to Alleyn.

‘There’s one other question, M. de Ravigne, and then I shall trouble you no further. Do you know anything of a Madame la Comtesse de Barsac?’

‘My sister, monsieur,’ said de Ravigne very frigidly.

‘Forgive me. I really didn’t know. She was the confidante of Miss Quayne, I think ? A very great friend?’

‘That is so.’

Alleyn got up.

‘A thousand thanks,’ he said. ‘Is there anything else, Fox? Perhaps you –’