Fault in the Structure

‘All the time, sir?’

‘Yes, for the dress rehearsal and all three performances. We didn’t use the noose at the dress rehearsal, and the Thursday and Friday nights went off without a hitch, so it never occurred to me to check the noose. I’d checked it at the pre-dress rehearsal —’

‘What exactly was that, sir?’

‘You may well ask,’ said Ernest, his voice rising in remembered anguish. ‘You never saw such a fiasco in your life. We were at it until half-past twelve at night. My poor mother was convinced that I must have met with an accident until I phoned her at midnight and told her I’d be home as soon as I could.’

‘But you inspected the noose on that occasion, sir?’

‘Yes, I did. Not that we ever got around to that last scene on that occasion. We were all so tired and wretched that we didn’t finish the opera.’

‘At what point during that rehearsal did you inspect the apparatus, sir?’

‘At the first interval. The porter at the town hall, under my directions, had climbed up and looped the rope over the girder and I myself had inspected the noose to make certain that it was perfectly safe. The other end of the rope was slung over the girder, not fastened in any way. If the cart had, for any reason, begun to move, the rope should have slid off the girder and fallen on to the stage, thus averting any possible danger to Macheath.’

‘Yes,’ said the police officer grimly, ‘it should have slid off the girder, but it didn’t, and the question is, if not, why not? I may as well tell you, sir, that I’ve climbed up to take a look at that rope myself. It’s fastened securely. The porter must have mistaken your instructions if they were as you say. I’ll see what he has to tell me.’

What the porter had to tell him was simple and conclusive.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Mr Farrow wasn’t too keen on climbing high ladders, so he give me his instructions about looping the rope over the girder. Myself, I didn’t think it would hold, that girder being unpainted iron and of a circular nature; still, I done as I was told. Well, they has this rehearsal what looked like going on till all hours, so at ten- thirty I packs it in. Firstly I finds Councillor Haynings and puts it up to him as ten-thirty were closing time. He says the rehearsal is a right mess, so they couldn’t give up yet, but as how I could go off dooty, him taking full responsibility.’

‘So he locked up the town hall that night instead of you doing it?’

‘Me leaving him my keys, which he returned personally on the Sunday morning, directly he come from church, to my own house. Well, I unlocks on the Monday morning, as usual, and has a look round and sees as the rope, as I knowed it would, had slid off the girder and was on the stage, so I phones up Councillor Haynings, me having his number because of him being chairman, and tells him. So he says, “Well, fix it, man, fix it.” So I gets me ladder again and fixes it, that’s all. I never done nothing wrong. Orders is orders, that’s what I allus says.’

CHAPTER 19

« ^

We have drawn the curtain across an empty stage

‘But you don’t go along with the verdict at the inquest, do you?’ said Laura.

‘Death by Misadventure? It is an interesting choice of words,’ said Dame Beatrice.

‘Wouldn’t Accidental Death have done as well? Not that I believe it, any more than you do.’

‘In the present case, Accidental Death may be ruled out, I think. There were far too many coincidences for this to have been an accident, and the coroner’s jury seem to have shown an intelligent grasp of the niceties of language in phrasing their verdict.’

‘In other words, they suspected it was murder, and we know it was murder, but where’s the proof?’

‘I shall find it. I am not in favour of punishment – none of us should be authorised to punish any other of us…’

‘All miserable sinners, you think?’

‘Well, the casting of stones is, perhaps, a hazardous operation, for it is undeniable that we all live in glass houses.’

‘So what?’

‘Society, we are told, must be protected. Why, I hardly know.’

‘Protected from Clarice Blaine?’

‘Why Clarice Blaine?’

‘Well, she was the only person who would have wanted to muck up our show.’

‘With her son taking part in it? Have you no conception of a mother’s love?’

‘Well, I’ve two children of my own, but is that germane to the issue?’

‘No, it is not, but if Clarice Blaine had decided to muck up our show, as you term it, why should she wait until the very end of the opera? The press had attended, had scribbled down their opinions and had left in order to get their copy into the local papers in time for next week’s editions. The “mucking up” came too late to be effective. If I read Mrs Blaine aright, she is not a woman to waste her sweetness on the desert air.’

‘Very true. Besides, although I wouldn’t put much past her, I don’t see her going as far as murder but, of course, to be fair, murder may have been the last thing anybody intended.’