Inspector Alleyn 3-Book Collection 5: Died in the Wool, Final Curtain, Swing Brother Swing. Ngaio Marsh
was trying to get on to some stuff about fortifications at Darwin, and we strung him along quite nicely for a time. Of course he was away a great deal on his wool-buying job. Nothing much happened till August, 1940, when he put it up to me that it might be worth my while to come over here with a letter from him to a lady friend of his, a Mrs Arthur Rubrick, MP, who was keen on English servants. He said a nephew of Mr Rubrick’s was doing a job they’d like to get a line on. Very thorough, the Japs, sir.’
‘Very.’
‘That’s right. I cabled in code to the Special Branch and they told me to go ahead. They were very interested in Mr Kan. So I came over and it worked out nicely. Mrs Rubrick took me on, and here I stuck. The first catch in it, though, was what would I tell Kurata Kan? The Special Branch warned me that Mr Losse’s work was important and they gave me some phoney stuff I could send on to Kan when he got discontented. That was OK. I even rigged up a bit of an affair with some spare radio parts, all pulled to pieces and done up different. I put it in a bad light and took a bad photograph of it and told him I’d done it through a closed window from the top of a ladder. I’ve often wondered how far it got before some expert took a look at it and said the Japanese for “Nuts”. Kan was pleased enough. He knew nothing. He was only a middle man. Of course it couldn’t last. They pulled him in at last on my information, and then there was Pearl Harbor. Finish!’
‘Only as far as Kan was concerned.’
‘True enough, sir. There was the second catch. But you know all about that, Mr Alleyn.’
‘I’d like to hear your end of it.’
‘Would you, sir? OK, then. My instructions from your end had been that I was on no account to let Mrs Rubrick or either of the young gentlemen get any idea that I wasn’t exactly what I seemed. After a bit your people let me know that there’d been leakage of information – not my phoney dope, but genuine stuff – about this magnetic fuse. Not through Japanese canals but German ones. Now that was a facer. So my next job was to turn round after three years working the bogus agent, and look for the genuine article. And that,’ said Markins plaintively, ‘was where I fluttered to pieces. I hadn’t got a thing. Not a bloody inkling, if you’ll pardon the expression.’
‘So we gathered,’ said Alleyn.
‘The galling thing, Mr Alleyn, the aspect of the affair that got under my professional skin, as you might say, was this: somebody in this household had been working under my nose for months. What did I feel like when I heard it? Dirt. Kuh! Thinking myself the fly operator, cooking up little fake photographs and all the time – look, Mr Alleyn, I handed myself the raspberry in six different positions. I did indeed.’
‘If it’s any satisfaction to you,’ said Alleyn, ‘one source of transit was stopped. Two months ago a German supply ship was taken off the Argentine coast. Detailed drawings of the magnetic fuse and instructions in code were found aboard her. The only link we could establish between this ship and New Zealand was the story of a freelance journalist who was cruising round the world in a tramp steamer. There are lots of these sportsmen about, harmless eccentrics, no doubt, for the most part. This particular specimen, a native of Portugal, visited most of the ports in this country during last year. Our people have tracked him down to a pub in a neutral port, where he was seen drinking with the skipper of this German ship, and was suddenly very flush with cash. Intensive probing brought to light an involved story that cast a very murky light on the journalist. All the usual stuff. We’re pretty certain of him and he won’t be given a shore permit next time the wanderlust drives him this way, romantic little chap.’
‘I remember when he was about,’ said Markins. ‘Señor or Don or Something de Something. He was in town during Easter race week last year. The two young gentlemen and Miss Harme and most of the staff went down for three days, I stayed behind. Mr Rubrick was very poorly.’
‘And Miss Lynne?’
‘She stayed behind, too. Wouldn’t leave him.’ Markins looked quickly at Alleyn. ‘Very sad, that,’ he added.
‘Very. We’ve found that this gentleman lived aboard his tramp steamer while he was in port. He showed up at the races wearing a white beret and clad for comfort rather than smartness; a conspicuous figure. We think this stuff about this gadget of Mr Losse’s was passed to him at this time. It had been folded small. The paper was of New Zealand manufacture.’
Markins clucked angrily. ‘Under my very nose, you might say.’
‘Well, your nose was up here and the transaction probably took place on a racecourse two hundred miles away or more.’
‘All the same.’
‘So you see, by a stroke of luck, we stopped the hole, and the information, as far as we know, didn’t reach the enemy. Mr Losse was warned by Headquarters that he should take particular care, and at the same time was advised to confide in nobody, not even his partner, about the attempt. Oddly enough he seems to have been sceptical about the danger of espionage while Captain Grace from the beginning has taken a very gloomy view of – who do you think?’
‘You’re asking me, sir,’ said Markins, in an indignant whisper. ‘Look! If that young man had crawled about after me on his stomach in broad daylight, he wouldn’t have given himself away more than he did. Look, sir. He got into my room and messed about like a coal heaver. His prints all over everything! Butted his head in among my suits and left them smelling of his hair oil, and I’m blest if he didn’t pinch a bill out of my pockets. Well, I mean to say, it was awkward. If he went howling up to Headquarters about me being a spy or some such, they’d be annoyed with me for putting myself away. It was comical, too. I was there to watch his blinking plant for him and he goes and makes up his mind I’m just what I pretended I was to Kan & Co.’
‘You must have done something to arouse his suspicions.’
‘I never!’ said Markins indignantly. ‘Why should I? As far as he knew, I never went near his blinking workroom but once. That was when I had an urgent telephone call for Mrs Rubrick. I heard voices up there and went along. He and Mr Losse were muttering in the doorway and didn’t hear me. When he did see me, he looked at me like I was the Demon King.’
‘He says he heard you prowling about the passage at a quarter to three in the morning, three weeks before Mrs Rubrick was killed.’
Markins made a faint squeaking noise. ‘Like hell he did! I never heard such a thing! What’d I be doing outside his workroom? Yes, and what does he do but rush off to Madam and tell her she’s got to give me the sack.’
‘You heard about that, did you?’
‘Madam told me. She said she had something very serious to talk to me about. She as good as said I’d been suspected of prying into the workroom. You could have pulled me to pieces with a pin, I was that taken aback. And riled! I reckon my manner was convincing, because she was satisfied. I ought to explain, Mr Alleyn, that I myself had heard somebody that night. I’m a light sleeper and I heard someone all right and it wasn’t either of the young gents. They get spasms of working late but they don’t bother to tiptoe into the workroom. I got out of bed, you bet, and had a look, but it was all quiet and after a bit I give up. I told Madam. She was very put about. Naturally. I satisfied her, of course, but it was awkward and what’s more I’d evidently missed a bit of funny business. Who was it, anyway, in the passage? I’m a sweet little agent, and that’s a fact. But before we parted she says: “Markins,” she says, “there’s something I don’t like about this business and next time I go up to Wellington,” she says, “I’m going to speak about it to the authorities. I’m going to suggest that the young gentlemen work under proper protection,” she says, “in their own interest, and I shall tell the Captain what I’ve decided.” What I cannot understand,’ said Markins, pulling at his thin underlip, ‘is why the Captain got it into his head I was an agent.’
‘Perhaps you look like one, Markins.’
‘I begin to think I must, Mr Alleyn, but I’d prefer it was the British variety.’
‘Actually,