III
‚ÄúWell, you‚Äôve made a benefit of this all right,‚Äù said the Inspector grimly. His audience was composed of Inigo and Joe, still in their stage costumes, which were torn and filthy, Mr.¬ÝOakroyd, all bruised and blackened, and two members of the staff of the Gatford Hippodrome. The rest had gone, most of them between half an hour and an hour ago. It was nearly an hour since Miss Trant had been taken away to the hospital, with Jimmy, still groaning, in attendance.
‚ÄúWhat do they say at the hospital‚ÅÝ‚Äîabout Miss Trant?‚Äù Inigo asked, shakily. He had never felt more tired in all his life. He could not stand on his feet any longer. He felt dizzy, sick.
‚ÄúI‚Äôm getting that through for you,‚Äù replied the Inspector. ‚ÄúI‚Äôll have a word in a minute or two. You chaps had better be getting along home now. You‚Äôre played out, I can see that. Meantime, I‚Äôve got to be making out my report.‚Äù He looked about him with a sardonic eye. The fire had not done very much damage; indeed, it was almost out when the fire-brigade arrived. Nevertheless, the Gatford Hippodrome looked a wreck. The stampede had left its traces on the body of the theatre; and the stage was a blackened and watery ruin. ‚ÄúThis part of it‚Äôs nothing,‚Äù the Inspector went on, ‚Äúthough I don‚Äôt say it isn‚Äôt bad enough. Nobody‚Äôll be giving a turn here for some time. It‚Äôs life though, not property, that matters. There might have been dozens of lives lost‚ÅÝ‚Äîdozens, yes, scores‚ÅÝ‚Äîwith people all trying to get out at once. Matter of fact, there isn‚Äôt any so far, and doesn‚Äôt look like being any. Lucky, I‚Äôll tell you, very lucky. Seven people injured, that‚Äôs all the figure I‚Äôve got‚ÅÝ‚Äîthat‚Äôs in the audience, not counting your two.‚Äù
‚ÄúIt ‚Äôud ha‚Äô been all nowt, Inspector,‚Äù said Mr.¬ÝOakroyd earnestly, ‚Äúif they hadn‚Äôt ha‚Äô gone an‚Äô shouted ‚ÄòFire!‚Äô like that. I knew what it ‚Äôud be. We tried to stop ‚Äôem.‚Äù
“But there was a fire,” said the Inspector.
“Nay, ther wasn’t, not when they were shouting. It come after, did t’fire, and it were nowt when it did come. Me an’ him put most on it out oursens, easy.”
“That’s true,” said Inigo wearily.
“Well, who started it all?” said the Inspector.
‚ÄúI‚Äôve told yer,‚Äù replied Mr.¬ÝOakroyd. ‚ÄúChaps ‚Äôat came from back o‚Äô t‚Äôpit started it all. Turned t‚Äôlights off to begin wi‚Äô, and it must ha‚Äô been them as shouted ‚ÄòFire!‚Äô‚Ää‚Äù
“Sure of it,” said Joe, and explained what happened to him when all the trouble first began.
“We’ll have to look into this,” said the Inspector dubiously. “Pity they got away, that’s all. Nothing to work on at all.”
‚ÄúNay, you‚Äôve got one on ‚Äôem, t‚Äôchap Joe an‚Äô me were sitting on so long,‚Äù said Mr.¬ÝOakroyd. ‚ÄúHey, Sergeant, didn‚Äôt you tak‚Äô yon chap wi‚Äô t‚Äôred scarf? He were one on ‚Äôem.‚Äù
“That’s right, sir,” said the sergeant, coming up. “We got him all right. It’s Tulley.”
“Oh, it’s Tulley, is it? We know him all right. An old friend of ours, Tulley is. What’s he got to say?”
“Knows nothing about it, sir. Happened to be in the audience he says, and was getting out this way.”
‚ÄúHe‚Äôs lyin‚Äô,‚Äù Mr.¬ÝOakroyd declared.
“We’ll see about that,” replied the Inspector, who was still busy taking stock of the situation. He poked about for a few minutes and made some notes, while the tattered remnants of the Good Companions looked on listlessly. They said nothing, for there seemed to be nothing to say now until they had had news from the hospital. At last, however, a policeman arrived with the message, which he delivered into the Inspector’s ear as if it were a state secret.
‚ÄúWell, it‚Äôs not so bad,‚Äù said the Inspector, turning to them. ‚ÄúIn fact, it‚Äôs good. The lady‚Äôs suffering from shock and a fractured arm, that‚Äôs all. No need for anybody to worry‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù
They gave huge sighs of relief.
‚ÄúAnd your other friend‚ÅÝ‚Äîthe little man, Nunn‚ÅÝ‚Äîonly got a crack on the head. They‚Äôre keeping him there overnight, but he‚Äôll probably be out tomorrow or the day after. He‚Äôs all right, though there won‚Äôt be any song-and-dance for him for a week or two, I should say.‚Äù
Inigo found himself giggling in a helpless sort of way. Everything had been rather crazy for some time now, of course, but still he didn’t want to giggle about it.
“You change your clothes and get to bed, my boy,” said the Inspector. “Have a bite of food and a drink of something and then turn in, quick. You chaps too. Off you go. You can’t do any more here. And, I say, don’t leave the town until I’ve seen you again. I’ve got your addresses, haven’t I? All right then, pop off.”
They had changed and were just straggling off, like a little company of shipwrecked sailors, when they met Susie, who looked like a fantastic little ghost as she came through the stage door. She was still wearing her stage costume, though she had a big coat over it, and there were traces of makeup on her face, a pale ruin of rouge and tear stains.
“Have you heard?” she cried, and when they said they had, she explained she had just come from the hospital. “It’s not so bad, is it?” she said, smiling wanly.
‚ÄúBetter ner like,‚Äù Mr.¬ÝOakroyd agreed.
‚ÄúMrs.¬ÝJoe‚Äôs waiting for you at the digs, Joe,‚Äù she went on. ‚ÄúShe told me to tell you. And you‚Äôd to hurry up because she was going to see there was something hot for supper.‚Äù
‚ÄúTher should be a bit o‚Äô summat for me an‚Äô all,‚Äù remarked Mr.¬ÝOakroyd contemplatively. ‚ÄúI hadn‚Äôt thowt owt about it, but I‚Äôm right peckish nar. Happen ther‚Äôll be a bit o‚Äô meat-and-tater pie warmed up. Yon landlady o‚Äô mine is great on meat-and-tater pie.‚Äù
“Let’s keep out of the main street,” said Susie, first slipping a hand inside Joe’s arm, then taking the expectant arm, Inigo’s, on the other side, and squeezing them both a little. “We don’t want anybody to see us, do we?” They trudged on in silence down the gloomy side-street. Doors were being slammed with a kind of savage finality. Somewhere not far away, a hoarse reveller was shouting:
“ ’E’s a dee-ar old pal,
Ja-holly old pal,
But ’e opens ’is mouth tew wi‑ide.”
It was Mr.¬ÝOakroyd, who had just been considering for the first time in true perspective, the whole daft evening, who broke the silence. ‚ÄúWell, by gow!‚Äù he began. ‚ÄúNar who‚Äôd ha‚Äô thowt‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù
But he was not allowed to say any more. “Don’t start,” said Susie hastily. “Just keep quiet, Jess lad. It’s been a mess, an awful mess. I’ve cried enough tonight, I don’t want to cry any more. And I don’t want to talk about it now. There’ll be plenty of time to talk about it all next week.”
“Absolutely,” said Inigo wearily.
“I dare say,” said Joe. “Never mind, Susie. What’s going to happen next week anyhow?”
“God knows!”
“I’m sorry, lass. I’ll say ner more. I’ll go on thinking about my bit o’ meat-and-tater pie. We’re not dead yet, though I seem to be stiff’ning a bit. Summat’ll turn up.”
So they went trudging on, as quiet as the four shadows in their grotesque dance on the pavement, lengthening and dwindling between the street lamps.