Death in Ecstasy
the now customary reply that the reek of incense was so strong that it would drown any other smell.
    “Though now I get to thinking about it,” added Mr. Ogden, “I do seem to remember it was uncommon powerful tonight. Yes, sir, I believe I thought those two he-he boys were certainly hitting up the atmosphere.”
    “Can you remember at what precise moment you thought this?”
    Mr. Ogden’s large face became very pink. For the first time since Alleyn met him he hesitated.
    “Well, Mr. Ogden?”
    “Well now, Inspector, I can’t remember. Isn’t that just too bad?”
    “Miss Jenkins was next to you in the circle, wasn’t she?”
    “That is correct,” said Mr. Ogden tonelessly.
    “Yes. Now look here, sir. You’re a business man I take it?”
    “Surely.”
    “Thank God for that. I don’t know how much this organisation means to you, and I don’t want to say anything that will be offensive, but I’m longing for a sensible man’s view of the whole situation. An intelligent and knowledgeable view.”
    “Inside dope,” said Mr. Ogden.
    “Exactly.”
    “Go right ahead. Maybe I’ll talk and maybe not. Maybe I don’t know anything.”
    “I gather you are an officer of the executive?”
    “That’s so. A Warden.”
    “You know all these people quite well, I suppose?”
    “Why, yes. We are all enthusiastic about uplift. The spirit of comradeship pervades our relationship. You Britishers are weaned on starch, I guess, but I hand myself out a whole lot of roses for the way I’ve got this bunch started. Right at the commencement of the movement they used to sit around looking at each other like they all suffered from frostbite. Now they’ve got together like regular fellows. They’re a great little crowd.”
    “You’ve been interested in the organisation since its foundation?”
    “That’s so. That was way back in — why, it must be two years ago. I met up with Father Garnette coming across to England. I move about some, Inspector. That’s my job. That trip it was the Brightwater Creek Gold Mining Company. Yes, that’s what it would be. I recollect I had Father Garnette accept a small nugget as a souvenir. That would be May two years ago. I was very, very much impressed with Father Garnette’s personality.”
    “Really,” said Alleyn.
    “Yes, sir. I’m a self-made man, Chief. I was raised in a ten-cent fish joint, and my education simply forgot to occur, but when I meet culture I respect it. I like it handed out good and peppy, and that’s the way Father Garnette let me have it. By the time we hit Southhampton we’d doped out a scheme for this church, and before six months had passed we were drawing congregations of three hundred.”
    “Remarkable,” said Alleyn.
    “It was swell.”
    “Where did the money come from?”
    “Why, from the flock. Father Garnette had a small hall ’way down Great Holland Road. Compared with this it was a bum show, but say, did we work it? The Father had a service every night for a month. He got right down to it. A small bunch of very influential people came along. Just one or two, but they roped in more. When he’d got them all enthusiastic he had an appeal week and loosed a line of high-voltage oratory. Sob-stuff. I gave five grand and I’m proud to spill the beans.”
    “Who were the other subscribers?”
    “Why, Dagmar Candour was in on the plush seats with a thousand pounds and poor Cara checked in at the same level. Each of those ladies seemed ambitious to carry off the generosity stakes. Then there was M. de Ravigne and — and all the bunch of Initiates. I guess I’d hold up operations some if I recited all the subscribers.”
    “Miss Quayne must have been a very wealthy woman?”
    “She was very, very wealthy, and she had a lovely nature. Why, only last month she deposited five thousand in bearer bonds in the safe back there beyond the altar. They are waiting there until another five is raised among the rest of us and then it’s to form a

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