Free Vintage Murder by Ngaio Marsh Page B

the Maori go out.
    “Very, very fine fellow, Rangi Te Pokiha,” said Wade. “Fine athlete, and brainy, too. Best type of Maori.”
    “I met him at the hotel,” said Alleyn, “and found him very interesting. There is no colour prejudice in this country, apparently.”
    “Well, not in the way there is in India, for instance. Mind, there are Maoris and Maoris. Te Pokiha’s high caste. His mother was a princess and his father a fine old chief. The doctor’s had an English college education — he’s ninety per cent civilised. All the same, sir, there’s the odd ten per cent. It’s there, no matter how civilised they are. See him when he goes into one of the back-country pas and you’ll find a difference. See him when he goes crook! By gee, I did once, when he gave evidence on a case of — well, it was an unsavoury case and the doctor felt strongly about it. His eyes fairly flashed. He looked as if he might go off at the deep end and dance a haka in court.”
    “A haka?”
    “War-dance. They pull faces and yell. Great affair, it is. Well now, what about this tiki, Mr. Alleyn?”
    “Ah, yes.” Alleyn lowered his voice. “Dr. Te Pokiha put me in the way of buying that tiki. I gave it to Miss Carolyn Dacres as a birthday present to-night.”
    “To the Dacres woman?” asked Wade, suddenly looking very sharp. “You did? Is that so?”
    “She is not ‘the Dacres woman’ so far, you know,” said Alleyn. “The tiki passed from hand to hand. It may be of interest to find out where it fetched up.”
    “Of interest! I should say so. I’ll see these people now. Cass!”
    Detective-Sergeant Cass opened the door in the set and looked in.
    “I’m going to the office, Cass. Send these people along one by one. You haven’t left them alone, I hope?”
    “No, sir. We’ve got them all together in one room now. Packer’s in there.”
    “All right.” He turned to Alleyn. “Are you sticking to it a while longer, Mr. Alleyn?”
    “I think I’ll wander in and join the party for a bit, if you’ve no objections.”
    “That’s quite all right, sir, that’s quite all right. You just please yourself,” said Wade in his heartiest voice. Alleyn knew that the inspector was at once relieved to think that he would be left alone for his examination of the others, and slightly disappointed at losing the chance of exhibiting his ability before the representative of Scotland Yard.
    “I suppose,” thought Alleyn, “I must give him an inferiority complex. He feels I’m criticising him all the time. If I don’t remember to be frightfully hearty and friendly, he’ll think I’m all English and superior. I know he will. I would myself, I suppose, in his shoes. He’s been damn’ pleasant and generous, too, and he’s a very decent fellow. Dear me, how difficult it all is.”
    He found his way along the dressing-room passage and, guided by the murmur of voices, knocked at the last door. It was opened by Detective-Sergeant Packer, who came half through the door. He was a fine specimen, was Packer; tall, magnificently built, with a good head on him. When he saw Alleyn he came to attention.
    “Sergeant Packer,” said Alleyn, “your inspector tells me I may come in here if I behave nicely. That all right?”
    “Certainly, Chief Inspector,” said Packer smartly.
    Alleyn looked at him.
    “We won’t bother about the ‘Chief Inspector,’ ” he murmured. “Can you come outside for a second?”
    Packer at once stepped out and closed the door.
    “Look here,” said Alleyn, “do those people in there realise I’m from the Yard?”
    “I don’t think they do, sir. I heard them mention your name, but they didn’t seem to know.”
    “Good. Leave ’em in outer darkness. Just any old Allen. I asked Inspector Wade to warn you, but I suppose he hasn’t had a chance. Miss Dacres, Miss Max, and Mr. Hambledon know, but they’ll keep quiet, I hope. Understand?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Splendid. Then just let me loose among