Vintage Murder Read Free Page B

came to one of these hairpin bends and as we swung round someone kicked me on the behind. Hard. By God, I nearly went over. As nearly as damn it. I tell you I lurched out over the step. I grabbed at the door with my left hand but I must have pulled it away from the catch on the wall as if I was going through and shutting it after me. See what I mean? I clutched the platform rail with my right hand — just caught it close to the iron stanchion by the steps. It seemed to last a lifetime, that hanging outwards. Then the train swung round the opposite way and I got back. Of course when I was all right again and turned round the man had gone. God, I’m all to pieces. Look in that case there, Hailey. There’s a bottle of brandy.” He turned pale bulging eyes on Alleyn.
    “What the hell do you make of that?”
    “Extremely unpleasant,” said Alleyn.
    “Unpleasant! Listen to him, will you!”
    “My poor Alfie,” said his wife. “You shall have quantities of brandy. Pour it out, Hailey. There are glasses there, too. We shall all have brandy while Mr. Alleyn tells us who tried to assassinate my poor Pooh. Don’t spill it, Hailey. There! Now, Mr. Alleyn?”
    She looked up with an air of encouragement at the chief inspector. “Is she being deliberately funny?” Alleyn wondered. “She’s not really one of those vague women who sound like fools and are as deep as you make them. Or is she? No, no, she’s making a little ‘cameo-part’ of herself, for us to look at. Perhaps she has done it for so long that she can’t stop.”
    “What I want to know is, what do I do?“ Meyer was saying.
    “Stop the train and tell the guard?” suggested Carolyn, sipping her brandy. “You pull the communication cord and pay five pounds and then some woman comes forward and says you attempted to—”
    “Carolyn, do be quiet,” begged Hambledon, smiling at her. “What do you think, Alleyn?”
    “You are quite sure that you were deliberately kicked?” asked Alleyn. “It wasn’t someone staggering along the train who lost his balance and then his head, when he thought he’d sent you overboard?”
    “I tell you I was kicked. I bet you anything you like I’ve got a black and blue behind.”
    “Darling! We must put you in a cage and take you on tour.”
    “What ought I to do, Alleyn?”
    “My dear Mr. Meyer, I — really I don’t quite know. I suppose I ought to tell you to inform the guard, and telegraph the police from the next station. There are some very tight footballers farther along the train. I wonder—”
    “Of
course
,” said Carolyn with enthusiasm. “How brilliant of you, Mr. Alleyn. It was a drunken footballer. I mean, it all fits in so splendidly, doesn’t it? He would know how to kick. Think of the All Blacks.”
    Mr. Meyer listened solemnly to this. Hambledon suddenly began to laugh. Alleyn hurriedly lit a cigarette.
    “It’s all very well for you to laugh,” said Mr. Meyer. He felt his stern carefully, staring at Alleyn. “I don’t know about the police,” he said. “That’d mean the Press and we’ve never gone in for that sort of publicity. What do you think, Hailey? ‘Attempted Murder of Well-known Theatrical Manager.’ It’s not too good. It isn’t as if it had been Carolyn.”
    “I should think not indeed,” agreed Hambledon with difficulty.
    “So should I think not indeed,” said Carolyn.
    “Mr. Meyer,” said Alleyn, “have you any enemies in your own company?”
    “Good God, no. We’re a happy little family. I treat my people well and they respect me. There’s never been a word.”
    “You say that several people went past you while you were on the platform,” said Alleyn. “Did you notice any of them in particular?”
    “No. I stood with my back to the gangway.”
    “Do you remember,” asked Alleyn after a pause, “if there was anyone standing on the opposite platform, the one at this end of our carriage that was linked to yours by the iron bridge?”
    “I don’t think