“Drops in the tablet and puts the cup away again?”

“Yes.”

“I see. Mr. Bathgate tells me the flame appeared after you laid your hands over the cup. How is this done?”

“I — ah — I employ a little capsule,‘’ said Father Garnette.

“Really? What does it contain?”

“I believe the substance is known as zinc — ah — ethyl.”

“Oh, yes. Very ingenious. You turn away for a moment as you use it perhaps?”

“That is so.”

“It all seems quite clear now. One more question. Has there, to your knowledge, ever been any form of poison kept on the premises of this building?”

Father Garnette turned as white as his robes and said no, definitely not.

“Thank you very much. I greatly appreciate your courtesy in answering so readily. I hope you will not mind very much if I ask you to wait in the — is that a vestry over there? It is! — in the vestry, while I see these other people. No doubt you will be glad to change into less ceremonial dress.”

“I shall avail myself of the opportunitah to regain in meditation my tranquilitah and spiritual at-oneness.”

“Do,” said Alleyn cordially.

“My sub-conscious mind, impregnated with the word, will flow to you-wards. In all humilitah I believe I may help you in your task. There are more things in Heaven and earth, Inspector Alleyn—”

“There are indeed, sir,” agreed the inspector dryly. “Have you any objection to being searched before you go?”

“Searched? No — er — no, certainly not. Certainly not.”

“That’s very sensible. Pure routine you know. I’ll send a man in.”

Father Garnette withdrew to the vestry accompanied by a plain-clothes man.

“Damn’, sickly, pseudo, bogus, mumbo-jumbo,” said Alleyn with great violence. “What do you think of him, Fox?”

“Well, sir,” said Fox placidly, “I must say I wondered if the gentleman knew much more about what he seemed to be talking about than I did.”

“And well you might, my Foxkin, well you might. Hullo, Bathgate.”

“Hullo,” said Nigel guardedly.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“I’m taking shorthand notes. I seem to remember that you have a passion for shorthand notes.”

“Ain’t dat de truff, Lawd! Have you read ‘Ole Man Adam’?”

“Yes.”

“I wish Garnette had. Fox!”

“Yes, sir?”

“Send someone else into.the vestry with Mr. Garnette, will you, and get them to look him over. And any of the others I send in. Where’s the wardress?”

“In the porch out there.”

“She can deal with the ladies. Tell them to look for a small piece of crumpled paper or anything that could have held powder. I don’t think they’ll find it. Bailey!”

Detective-Sergeant Bailey moved down the sanctuary.

“Yes, sir?”

“The next, if you please.”

Bailey went through the little door and reappeared with Claude Wheatley and a general air of having taken an unlucky dip in a bran-tub. Fox returned with another plain-clothes man who went into the vestry.

“This gentleman isn’t feeling too good, sir. He wants to go home,” said Bailey.

“Oh, yes,” said Claude. “Oh, yes, please. Oh, yes.”

“Sorry you’re upset, Mr. Wheatley,” said Alleyn.

“Upset! I’m simply fearfully ill, Inspector. You can’t think. Oh, please may I sit down.”

“Do.”

Claude sank into one of the Initiates’ chairs and gazed wide-eyed at the inspector.

“I feel too ghastly,” he moaned.

“What upset you?”

“That appalling old woman. She said such frightful things. I do think old women are awful.”

“Whom do you mean?”

“The Candour female.”

“What did she say to upset you?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I do feel shocking.”

Dr. Curtis came out of Garnette’s room and strolled down.

“Mr. Wheatley felt a bit squeamish,” he said cheerfully, “but he’ll be all right. He’s had a peg of some really excellent brandy. Father Garnette’s a lucky man.”

“Splendid,” rejoined Alleyn. “Would you be a good fellow and go back to them, Curtis? Some of the others may need attention.”

“Certainly.” Curtis and Alleyn exchanged a glance and the doctor returned.

“Now, Mr. Wheatley,” Alleyn began. “I think you look much better. I’ve a few questions I’d like to put to you. You can refuse to answer if you think it advisable.”

“Yes, but that’s all very well. Suppose I do refuse, then you’ll start thinking things.”

“I might, certainly.”

“Yes — well there!”

“Difficult for you,” remarked Alleyn.

“Well, anyway,” said Claude very peevishly, “you can ask them. I may as well know what they are.”

“I have already asked the first. What did Mrs. Candour say to upset you?”

Claude wriggled.

“Jealous old cat. The whole thing is she loathes Father Garnette taking the slightest notice of anybody else. She’s always too loathsomely spiteful for words — especially to Lionel and me. How she dared! And anyway everybody knows all about it. I’d hardly be stupid enough to—” Here Claude stopped short.

“To do what, Mr. Wheatley?”

“To do anything like that, even if I wanted to, and anyways I always thought Cara Quayne was a marvellous person — so piercingly decorative.”

“What would you hardly be stupid enough to do?” asked Alleyn patiently.

“To — well — well — to do anything to the wine. Everybody knows it was my week to make preparation.”

“You mean you poured the wine into the silver flagon and put the methylated tablet into the cup. What did Mrs. Candour suggest?”

“She didn’t actually suggest anything. She simply said I did it. She kept on saying so. Old cat.”

“I shouldn’t let it worry you. Now, Mr. Wheatley, will you think carefully. Did you notice any peculiar, any unusual smell when you poured out the wine?”

“Any smell!” ejaculated Claude opening his eyes very wide. “Any smell!”

“Any smell.”

“Well, of course I’d just lit all the censers you know. Don’t you think our incense is rather divine, Inspector? Father Garnette gets it from India. It’s sweet-almond blossom. There’s the oil too. We burn a dish of the oil in front of the altar. I lit it just before I got the wine. It’s a gorgeous perfume.”

“Evidently. You got the bottle of wine from Mr. Garnette’s room. Was it unopened?”

“Yes. I drew the cork.”

“You put nothing else in the flagon?”

Claude looked profoundly uncomfortable.

“Well — well, anyway I didn’t put any poison in, if that’s what you’re hinting.”

“What else did you put?”

“If you must know it’s something from a little bottle that Father Garnette keeps. It has a ceremonial significance. It’s always done.”

“Have you any idea what it is?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where is this bottle kept?”

“In the little cupboard in Father Garnette’s room.”

“I see. Now as I understand it you took the wine to each of the Initiates in turn. Did you at any time notice any unusual smell from the cup?”

“I never touched the cup, Inspector. I never touched it. They all handed it round from one to the other. I didn’t notice any smell except the incense. Not ever.”

“Right. Did you notice Miss Quayne at all when she took the cup?”

“Did I notice her? My God, yes.”

“What happened exactly?”

“It was simply appalling. You see I thought she was in Blessed Ecstasy. Well, I mean she was, up to the time she took the cup. She had spoken in ecstasy and everything. And then she drank. And then — oh, it was frightful. She gave a sort of gasp. A fearfully deep gasp and sort of sharp. She made a face. And then she kind of slewed round and she dropped the cup. Her eyes looked like a doll’s eyes. Glistening. And then she twitched all over — jerked — ugh! She fell down in a sort of jerk. Oh, I’m going to be sick, I think.”

“No, you’re not,” said the inspector very firmly. “You are going home. Go into the vestry and change your clothes.”

“Where’s Lionel?”

“He’ll join you in a moment. Good night.”