A Man Lay Dead by Ngaio Marsh

good. Now, was this lady alone? All alone!” chanted Alleyn in a sort of faraway croon. “All alone!”
    Sissy stared at him.
    “Was she — was she all by ’elf?” asked Nigel, trying baby talk.
    “Nah!” said Sissy.
    “There was someone else with the lady?”
    “Yea-us.”
    “Another lady?” suggested Nigel.
    “Nah. Loidies don’t go wiv loidies in der coppus.”
    Stimson laughed coarsely. “Isn’t she a masterpiece, sir?” he asked.
    “Come now,” said Alleyn crisply. “We are getting on. The lady was with a gentleman?”
    Nigel had to repeat this question.
    “Yea-us,” conceded Sissy.
    “What sort of gentleman?” began Alleyn.
    Sissy made another grab at Nigel’s shilling and gave a sudden boisterous shout.
    “Was he a big gentleman?” said Nigel, backing away from her.
    “Gimme der shillun!” yelled Sissy. “Yah! Gimme der shillun!”
    “No!” said Nigel. “Not if you aren’t a good girl.”
    The child screamed piercingly and flung herself face downwards on the path, where she remained yelling and thrashing about with her legs.
    “That’s tore it,” said Stimson gloomily.
    “What are you doing to that poor baby?” cried an indignant voice, and Angela came hurrying down the path. In a moment she was kneeling on the ground and had gathered Sissy up in her arms. The child clung round Angela’s neck and buried her filthy little face in her blouse.
    “Toike awoy the nasty gentlemen!” she sobbed, “and gimme der shilluns!”
    “My poor darling,” crooned Angela. “Why have you been teasing her?” she demanded fiercely of Nigel and Alleyn.
    “We haven’t been doing anything of the sort,” said Nigel crossly. “Have we, Stimson?”
    “You didn’t go for to, sir,” agreed Stimson. “It’s like this, Miss,” he continued. “Sissy saw a lady and gentleman in the coppice, and the lady was crying, and this gentleman wants to know the rights of it. And young Sis, she’s turned rancid on us, Miss.”
    “I don’t wonder,” said Angela. “Give me that money you’ve been tormenting her with.” Alleyn and Nigel handed over the shillings.
    “There, my precious!” murmured Angela. “We won’t tell them anything about it. We’ll have it for a secret. You whisper to me what the silly old people in the woods were like. You needn’t wait, Stimson. I’ll bring her along to the cottage.”
    “Very good, Miss,” said Stimson, and retired.
    Sissy appeared to blow ferociously in Angela’s ear.
    “A lady with a lovely red cap,” whispered Angela, “Poor lady! I expect a wopsie had bitten her, don’t you? Was it a big gentleman?”
    Alleyn had whipped out his note-book. Sissy was breathing hard into Angela’s hair.
    “It was a funny gentleman,” reported Angela. “Why was he funny? Just funny. You saw another lady this afternoon, did you? What was she doing, darling? Just walking. There now! That was a lovely secret, and now we’ll go home.”
    “I’ve got a lovely secret, too,” said Detective-Inspector Alleyn astonishingly.
    Sissy, who had detached herself from Angela, turned a watery eye on him. The Inspector suddenly squatted down by her and distorted his face slightly so that one slim black eyebrow shot up his forehead. Sissy chuckled. The eyebrow came back to normal.
    “More!” said Sissy.
    “It won’t do it again unless you whisper to it some more about the gentleman you saw in the coppice,” said Alleyn.
    Sissy waddled across the path and placed a fat earthy paw on the Inspector’s face. He flinched slightly and shook his head. Sissy whispered. The eyebrow moved up.
    “There! that’s how it works,” remarked Alleyn; “and if we went into the coppice there’s no knowing if it wouldn’t do it again.”
    Sissy looked over her shoulder at Angela. “Doin’ to der coppus,” she said briefly.
    Alleyn rose with the child in his arms.
    “Leave to dismiss, Miss North?” he asked politely.
    “Certainly, Inspector Alleyn,” said Angela stiffly.
    The