Chapters (24)
- Cover Page
- Dedication
- Cast of Characters
- CHAPTER 1The Plume of Feathers
- CHAPTER 2Advance by Watchman
- CHAPTER 3Further Advance by Watchman
- CHAPTER 4The Evening in Question
- CHAPTER 5Failure by Mr Legge
- CHAPTER 6Inquest
- CHAPTER 7Complaint from a Publican
- CHAPTER 8Alleyn at Illington
- CHAPTER 9Alleyn at the Feathers
- CHAPTER 10The Tumbler and the Dart
- CHAPTER 11Routine
- CHAPTER 12Curious Behaviour of Mr Legge
- CHAPTER 13Miss Darragh Stands firm
- CHAPTER 14Crime and Mr Legge
- CHAPTER 15Love Interest
- CHAPTER 16Alleyn Exceeds His Duty
- CHAPTER 17Mr Fox Takes Sherry
- CHAPTER 18Mr Legge Commits a Misdemeanour
- CHAPTER 19The Chief Constable as Watson
- CHAPTER 20Conjecture into Fact
- About the Publisher
‘Ah!’ said Abel. ‘Thicky dart! When George Nark don’t be saying I did for the man in his cups, he be swearing his soul away I mused up thicky dart with prussic acid. Mind this, sir, the darts wurrn’t arrived when us brought in poison on Thursday night, and they wurr only unpacked five minutes before the hijus moment itself. Now!’
‘Yes, they were new darts, weren’t they? I seem to remember—’
‘‘Ess fay, and never used till then. I opened ‘em up myself while company was having their last go round-the-clock. I opened ‘em up on bar counter. Fresh in their London wrappings, they wurr. Mr Parish and my boy Will, they picked ‘em up and looked at ‘em casual like, and then Bob Legge, he scooped ‘em up and took a trial throw with the lot. He said they carried beautiful. Then he had his shot at Mr Watchman’s hand. They wurr clean new, they darts.’
‘And yet,’ said Alleyn, ‘the analyst found a trace of cyanide on the dart that pierced Mr Watchman’s finger.’
Abel brought his palms down with a smack on his knees.
‘‘Od rabbit it,’ he shouted, ‘don’t George Nark stuff that thurr chunk of science down my gullet every time he opens his silly face? Lookee yurr, sir! ‘Twas twenty-four hours and more, since I put bottle o’ poison in cupboard. I’d washed my hands half a dozen times since then. Bar had been swabbed down. Ax yourself, how could I infectorite they darts?’
Alleyn looked at the sweaty earnest countenance before him and whistled soundlessly.
‘Yes,’ he said at last, ‘it seems unlikely.’
‘Unlikely. It’s slap down impossible.’
‘But—’
‘If poison got on thicky dart,’ said Abel, “twasn’t by accident not yet by carelessness. ‘Twas by malice. ‘Twas with murderacious intent. Thurr!’
‘But how do you account—’
‘Account? Me?’ asked old Abel agitatedly. ‘I don’t. I leaves they intellectual capers to Superintendent Nicholas Harper and a pretty poor fist he do be making of it. That’s why—’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Alleyn hurriedly. ‘But remember that Mr Harper may be doing more than you think. Policemen have to keep their own counsel, you see. Don’t make up your mind that because he doesn’t say very much—’