Sixteen
1
“’Ere, Miss. Is it true as there’s an ’ideous poisoner at work?”
Gina pushed the hair back from her forehead, and jumped as the
hoarse1
whisper reached her. There was paint on her cheek and paint on her
slacks. She and her selected helpers had been busy on the backcloth of the
It was one of these helpers who was now asking the question. Ernie, the
boy who had given her such valuable lessons in the manipulations of
locks. Ernie’s fingers were equally dextrous at stage carpentry, and he was
one of the most enthusiastic theatrical assistants.
His eyes now were bright and beady with pleasurable
anticipation3.
“Where on earth did you get that idea?” asked Gina indignantly.
Ernie shut one eye.
“It’s all round the dorms,” he said. “But look ’ere, Miss, it wasn’t one of
us. Not a thing like that. And nobody wouldn’t do a thing to Mrs. Serro-
cold. Even Jenkins wouldn’t cosh her. ’Tisn’t as though it was the old bitch.
Wouldn’t ’alf like to poison ’er, I wouldn’t.”
“Don’t talk like that about Miss Bellever.”
“Sorry, Miss. It slipped out. What poison was it, Miss? Strickline, was it?
Makes you arch your back and die in agonies, that does. Or was it Prussian
acid?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ernie.”
“Not ’alf you don’t. Mr. Alex it was done it, so they say. Brought them
chocs down from London. But that’s a lie. Mr. Alex wouldn’t do a thing
like that, would he, Miss?”
“Of course he wouldn’t,” said Gina.
“Much more likely to be Mr. Birnbaum. When he’s giving us P.T. he
makes the most awful faces and Don and I think as he’s batty.”
“Just move that turpentine out of the way.”
Ernie obeyed, murmuring to himself:
“Don’t ’arf see life ’ere! Old Gulbrandsen done in yesterday and now a
secret poisoner. D’you think it’s the same person doing both? What ud you
say, Miss, if I told you as I know oo it was done ’im in?”
“You can’t possibly know anything about it.”
“Coo, carn’t I neither? Supposin’ I was outside last night and saw some-
thing.”
“How could you have been out? The College is locked up after roll call at
seven.”
“Roll call … I can get out whenever I likes, Miss. Locks don’t mean noth-
ing to me. Get out and walk round the grounds just for the fun of it, I do.”
Gina said:
“I wish you’d stop telling lies, Ernie.”
“Who’s telling lies?”
“You are. You tell lies and you boast about things that you’ve never done
at all.”
“That’s what you say, Miss. You wait till the
coppers5 come round and
arsk me all about what I saw last night.”
“Well, what did you see?”
“Ah,” said Ernie, “wouldn’t you like to know?”
Gina made a rush at him and he beat a strategic retreat. Stephen came
over from the other side of the theatre and joined Gina. They discussed
various technical matters and then, side by side, they walked back to-
“They all seem to know about Grandam and the chocs,” said Gina. “The
boys, I mean. How do they get to know?”
“Local grapevine of some kind.”
“And they knew about Alex’s card. Stephen, surely it was very stupid to
put Alex’s card in the box when he was actually coming down here.”
“Yes, but who knew he was coming down here? He
decided7 to come on
the spur of the moment and sent a telegram. Probably the box was posted
by then. And if he hadn’t come down, putting his card in would have been
quite a good idea. Because he does send Caroline chocolates sometimes.”
He went on slowly:
“What I simply can’t understand is—”
“Is why anyone should want to poison Grandam,” Gina cut in. “I know.
It’s inconceivable! She’s so adorable—and absolutely everyone does adore
her.”
Stephen did not answer. Gina looked at him sharply.
“I know what you’re thinking, Steve!”
“I wonder.”
“You’re thinking that Wally—doesn’t adore her. But Wally would never
poison anyone. The idea’s laughable.”
“The loyal wife!”
“Don’t say that in that
sneering9 tone of voice.”
“I didn’t mean to
sneer8. I think you are loyal. I admire you for it. But,
darling Gina, you can’t keep it up, you know.”
“What do you mean, Steve?”
“You know quite well what I mean. You and Wally don’t belong to-
gether. It’s just one of those things that doesn’t work. He knows it, too. The
split is going to come any day now. And you’ll both be much happier when
it has come.”
Gina said:
Stephen laughed.
“Come now, you can’t pretend that you’re suited to each other or that
Wally’s happy here.”
“Oh, I don’t know what’s the matter with him,” cried Gina. “He sulks the
whole time. He hardly speaks. I—I don’t know what to do about him. Why
can’t he enjoy himself here? We had such fun together once—everything
was fun—and now he might be a different person. Why do people have to
change so?”
“Do I change?”
“No, Steve darling. You’re always Steve. Do you remember how I used to
tag round after you in the holidays?”
“And what a nuisance I used to think you—that
miserable11 little kid Gina.
Well, the tables are turned now. You’ve got me where you want me,
haven’t you, Gina?”
Gina said quickly:
“Idiot.” She went on hurriedly, “Do you think Ernie was lying? He was
pretending he was roaming about in the fog last night, and hinting that he
could tell things about the murder. Do you think that might be true?”
“True? Of course not. You know how he boasts. Anything to make him-
self important.”
“Oh I know. I only wondered—”
They walked along side by side without speaking.
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