‘Enough to murder him? Good heavens, no, of course nobody has!’
‘I had no thought of murder in mind, sir, but, suppose the accident had not ended fatally, could it not have made this Mr Crashaw look rather ridiculous, with his cart running away from him and he left hanging on to the backdrop, or something of that sort?’
‘The cast would know how dangerous that would be,’ said Ernest, after a pause for thought. ‘His hands weren’t really tied, of course – the bonds were just looped over – but even so, taken by surprise, he might not have had time to release himself and clutch at the halter round his neck to save himself from strangulation. Oh, and that’s another thing! That halter was never meant to have a slip-knot. Everybody in the cast knew that, and we are all mature, responsible people, all old enough to know better than to play stupid practical jokes such as changing a fixed loop into a running noose.’
‘Even the schoolboy, Thomas Blaine, sir?’
‘I assure you, my dear chap,’ said Dr Philip Denbigh, ‘that my students are not involved. I have instituted, in collaboration with the principal of the College, the senior staff and the head students, man and girl, the strictest and closest enquiries. You yourself have done the same. There is no student who was present at the performance who cannot be accounted for by witnesses. Apart from that, the students in question are third years. They have sat their final examinations and are intending to teach children. They all know better than to play dangerous practical jokes, I do assure you.’
‘Mr Farrow tells me the same about his members. Your students are young and high-spirited, though, sir, wouldn’t you agree?’
‘Certainly they are, but they are not dangerous lunatics, Superintendent.’
‘One or other of them took the wheels off that cart at the dress rehearsal, sir.’
‘You have no proof of that.’
‘And somebody hid those wedges which were supposed to be put under those same wheels on the last night of the performance. Even if somebody had accidentally or deliberately pushed against the cart, the wedges would have held it.’
‘You must look elsewhere for your culprits. My students are not responsible for the tragedy which has occurred.
‘Perhaps you can suggest who
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘No offence, sir, but you, as producer of this opera which, I understand, has been in rehearsal for several weeks, must have had your finger on the pulse, so to speak. Were there any little rifts, for example, between the deceased and anybody else in the cast? Clashes of temperament, jealousies, quarrels?’
‘Not so far as I am aware. Mr Crashaw was not my first choice for the part, but when I gave it to him there was little or no ill-feeling among the others.’
‘What happened to your first choice, then, sir? Couldn’t he fill the bill?’
‘Oh, it was nothing like that. He was fooling about on a trampoline at his school – he’s a teacher – fell off it awkwardly and was taken to hospital with a fractured leg. It was a very nasty crack, I believe, silly young ass!’
‘So there’s no suggestion he could have been present at the town hall on Saturday?’
‘Ask the hospital!’
Young Tom Blaine came next on the list, but as it was clear, from Ernest Farrow’s evidence, that the mischief with the fastenings of the cart must have been done not earlier than a few moments before Ernest’s own last dialogue with the Player in front of the curtain, young Tom was able to alibi himself without difficulty.
‘I was supposed to have a short scene with Lockit – that’s Mr Haynings – in Act Three,’ he said, ‘but Dr Denbigh cut it out because it’s a bit rude. It’s about…’
‘Never mind what it’s about, lad. Where were you during the last scene, where, as I understand it, Mr Farrow and one of the students have a short dialogue in front of the curtain?’
‘I was in the porters’ room playing backgammon with Mr Caxton until my mother took him home, then I played with one of the porters. You can hear the applause from the porters’ room, so that was my cue to get into the corridor with the other principals ready to take our curtains. The porters, both of them, came with me, because it was their job to hand the bouquets. They get pretty good tips, you see, for staying late and seeing to the bouquets.’
As both porters vouched for all this, there was no more to be said. Granted, however, that Lawrence’s death was the result of a practical joke which had misfired, there was one aspect of it which dangled – almost literally – in the Superintendent’s mind. This was the running noose, instead of a knotted loop, in the hangman’s rope. He tackled Ernest Farrow again.
‘When you tested your knots which anchored the cart, sir, did you also take a look at the noose?’
‘No, I’m afraid I didn’t. We left it in position from one night to the next, you see. It was fastened to one of the iron girders so that it dropped straight down, forming, as it were, a plumb-line from near the roof, the weight of its knot, where the noose was, holding it pretty steady, and all the stage-hands had to do was slip it over Macheath’s head.’
‘At what point in the proceedings would they do that, sir?’
‘It was after they had pinioned and blindfolded him and helped him up on to the cart. They had a small step- ladder – one of those ladder-stool things which ladies use in the kitchen – to get up to reach the noose, and then they just put it lightly round his neck.’
‘So he himself wouldn’t have been aware that on that last evening it had a running noose instead of a knotted loop in it?’
‘I suppose not,’ said Ernest, unhappily. ‘You know, Detective-Superintendent, I’m wondering whether, by some oversight – and don’t think I don’t blame myself, because I do – I’m wondering whether that slip-noose could have been there all the time.’
