bookssland.com Ā» Literary Collections Ā» Whose Body? - Dorothy L. Sayers (motivational books to read .TXT) šŸ“—

Book online Ā«Whose Body? - Dorothy L. Sayers (motivational books to read .TXT) šŸ“—Ā». Author Dorothy L. Sayers



1 ... 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 ... 31
Go to page:
a peculiarly malicious murder, and to accept from him in the course of the proceedings a large cheque for a charitable object, has something about it unpalatable to any but the hardened Secret Service agent. Lord Peter temporized.

ā€œThatā€™s awfully decent of you,ā€ he said. ā€œIā€™m sure theyā€™d be no end grateful. But youā€™d better not give it to me, you know. I might spend it, or lose it. Iā€™m not very reliable, Iā€™m afraid. The vicarā€™s the right personā€”the Rev. Constantine Throgmorton, St. John-before-the-Latin-Gate Vicarage, Dukeā€™s Denver, if you like to send it there.ā€

ā€œI will,ā€ said Mr. Milligan. ā€œWill you write it out now for a thousand pounds, Scoot, in case it slips my mind later?ā€

The secretary, a sandy-haired young man with a long chin and no eyebrows, silently did as he was requested. Lord Peter looked from the bald head of Mr. Milligan to the red head of the secretary, hardened his heart and tried again.

ā€œWell, Iā€™m no end grateful to you, Mr. Milligan, and soā€™ll my mother be when I tell her. Iā€™ll let you know the date of the bazaarā€”itā€™s not quite settled yet, and Iā€™ve got to see some other business men, donā€™t you know. I thought of askinā€™ someone from one of the big newspaper combines to represent British advertisinā€™ talent, what?ā€”and a friend of mine promises me a leadinā€™ German financierā€”very interestinā€™ if there ainā€™t too much feelinā€™ against it down in the country, and Iā€™ll have to find somebody or other to do the Hebrew point of view. I thought of askinā€™ Levy, yā€™know, only heā€™s floated off in this inconvenient way.ā€

ā€œYes,ā€ said Mr. Milligan, ā€œthatā€™s a very curious thing, though I donā€™t mind saying, Lord Peter, that itā€™s a convenience to me. He had a cinch on my railroad combine, but Iā€™d nothing against him personally, and if he turns up after Iā€™ve brought off a little deal Iā€™ve got on, Iā€™ll be happy to give him the right hand of welcome.ā€

A vision passed through Lord Peterā€™s mind of Sir Reuben kept somewhere in custody till a financial crisis was over. This was exceedingly possible, and far more agreeable than his earlier conjecture; it also agreed better with the impression he was forming of Mr. Milligan.

ā€œWell, itā€™s a rum go,ā€ said Lord Peter, ā€œbut I daresay he had his reasons. Much better not inquire into peopleā€™s reasons, yā€™know, what? Specially as a police friend of mine whoā€™s connected with the case says the old johnnie dyed his hair before he went.ā€

Out of the tail of his eye, Lord Peter saw the redheaded secretary add up five columns of figures simultaneously and jot down the answer.

ā€œDyed his hair, did he?ā€ said Mr. Milligan.

ā€œDyed it red,ā€ said Lord Peter. The secretary looked up. ā€œOdd thing is,ā€ continued Wimsey, ā€œthey canā€™t lay hands on the bottle. Somethinā€™ fishy there, donā€™t you think, what?ā€

The secretaryā€™s interest seemed to have evaporated. He inserted a fresh sheet into his looseleaf ledger, and carried forward a row of digits from the preceding page.

ā€œI daresay thereā€™s nothinā€™ in it,ā€ said Lord Peter, rising to go. ā€œWell, itā€™s uncommonly good of you to be bothered with me like this, Mr. Milliganā€”my motherā€™ll be no end pleased. Sheā€™ll write you about the date.ā€

ā€œIā€™m charmed,ā€ said Mr. Milligan. ā€œVery pleased to have met you.ā€

Mr. Scoot rose silently to open the door, uncoiling as he did so a portentous length of thin leg, hitherto hidden by the desk. With a mental sigh Lord Peter estimated him at six-foot-four.

ā€œItā€™s a pity I canā€™t put Scootā€™s head on Milliganā€™s shoulders,ā€ said Lord Peter, emerging into the swirl of the city. ā€œAnd what will my mother say?ā€

CHAPTER V

Mr. Parker was a bachelor, and occupied a Georgian but inconvenient flat at No. 12A Great Ormond Street, for which he paid a pound a week. His exertions in the cause of civilization were rewarded, not by the gift of diamond rings from empresses or munificent cheques from grateful Prime Ministers, but by a modest, though sufficient, salary, drawn from the pockets of the British taxpayer. He awoke, after a long day of arduous and inconclusive labour, to the smell of burnt porridge. Through his bedroom window, hygienically open top and bottom, a raw fog was rolling slowly in, and the sight of a pair of winter pants, flung hastily over a chair the previous night, fretted him with a sense of the sordid absurdity of the human form. The telephone bell rang, and he crawled wretchedly out of bed and into the sitting-room, where Mrs. Munns, who did for him by the day, was laying the table, sneezing as she went.

Mr. Bunter was speaking.

ā€œHis lordship says heā€™d be very glad, sir, if you could make it convenient to step round to breakfast.ā€

If the odour of kidneys and bacon had been wafted along the wire, Mr. Parker could not have experienced a more vivid sense of consolation.

ā€œTell his lordship Iā€™ll be with him in half an hour,ā€ he said, thankfully, and plunging into the bathroom, which was also the kitchen, he informed Mrs. Munns, who was just making tea from a kettle which had gone off the boil, that he should be out to breakfast.

ā€œYou can take the porridge home for the family,ā€ he added, viciously, and flung off his dressing-gown with such determination that Mrs. Munns could only scuttle away with a snort.

A 19 ā€™bus deposited him in Piccadilly only fifteen minutes later than his rather sanguine impulse had prompted him to suggest, and Mr. Bunter served him with glorious food, incomparable coffee, and the Daily Mail before a blazing fire of wood and coal. A distant voice singing the ā€œet iterum venturus estā€ from Bachā€™s Mass in B minor proclaimed that for the owner of the flat cleanliness and godliness met at least once a day, and presently Lord Peter roamed in, moist and verbena-scented, in a bath-robe cheerfully patterned with unnaturally variegated peacocks.

ā€œMorninā€™, old dear,ā€ said that gentleman. ā€œBeast of a day, ainā€™t it? Very good of you to trundle out in it, but I had a letter I wanted you to see, and I hadnā€™t the energy to come round to your place. Bunter and Iā€™ve been makinā€™ a night of it.ā€

ā€œWhatā€™s the letter?ā€ asked Parker.

ā€œNever talk business with your mouth full,ā€ said Lord Peter, reprovingly; ā€œhave some Oxford marmaladeā€”and then Iā€™ll show you my Dante; they brought it round last night. What ought I to read this morning, Bunter?ā€

ā€œLord Erithā€™s collection is going to be sold, my lord. There is a column about it in the Morning Post. I think your lordship should look at this review of Sir Julian Frekeā€™s new book on ā€˜The Physiological Bases of the Conscienceā€™ in the Times Literary Supplement. Then there is a very singular little burglary in the Chronicle, my lord, and an attack on titled families in the Heraldā€”rather ill-written, if I may say so, but not without unconscious humour which your lordship will appreciate.ā€

ā€œAll right, give me that and the burglary,ā€ said his lordship.

ā€œI have looked over the other papers,ā€ pursued Mr. Bunter, indicating a formidable pile, ā€œand marked your lordshipā€™s after-breakfast reading.ā€

ā€œOh, pray donā€™t allude to it,ā€ said Lord Peter; ā€œyou take my appetite away.ā€

There was silence, but for the crunching of toast and the crackling of paper.

ā€œI see they adjourned the inquest,ā€ said Parker presently.

ā€œNothing else to do,ā€ said Lord Peter; ā€œbut Lady Levy arrived last night, and will have to go and fail to identify the body this morning for Suggā€™s benefit.ā€

ā€œTime, too,ā€ said Mr. Parker shortly.

Silence fell again.

ā€œI donā€™t think much of your burglary, Bunter,ā€ said Lord Peter. ā€œCompetent, of course, but no imagination. I want imagination in a criminal. Whereā€™s the Morning Post?ā€

After a further silence, Lord Peter said: ā€œYou might send for the catalogue, Bunter, that Apollonios Rhodios[C] might be worth looking at. No, Iā€™m damned if Iā€™m going to stodge through that review, but you can stick the book on the library list if you like. His book on crime was entertaininā€™ enough as far as it went, but the fellowā€™s got a bee in his bonnet. Thinks Godā€™s a secretion of the liverā€”all right once in a way, but thereā€™s no need to keep on about it. Thereā€™s nothing you canā€™t prove if your outlook is only sufficiently limited. Look at Sugg.ā€

ā€œI beg your pardon,ā€ said Parker; ā€œI wasnā€™t attending. Argentines are steadying a little, I see.ā€

ā€œMilligan,ā€ said Lord Peter.

ā€œOilā€™s in a bad way. Levyā€™s made a difference there. That funny little boom in Peruvians that came on just before he disappeared has died away again. I wonder if he was concerned in it. Dā€™you know at all?ā€

ā€œIā€™ll find out,ā€ said Lord Peter. ā€œWhat was it?ā€

ā€œOh, an absolutely dud enterprise that hadnā€™t been heard of for years. It suddenly took a little lease of life last week. I happened to notice it because my mother got let in for a couple of hundred shares a long time ago. It never paid a dividend. Now itā€™s petered out again.ā€

Wimsey pushed his plate aside and lit a pipe.

ā€œHaving finished, I donā€™t mind doing some work,ā€ he said. ā€œHow did you get on yesterday?ā€

ā€œI didnā€™t,ā€ replied Parker. ā€œI sleuthed up and down those flats in my own bodily shape and two different disguises. I was a gas-meter man and a collector for a Home for Lost Doggies, and I didnā€™t get a thing to go on, except a servant in the top flat at the Battersea Bridge Road end of the row who said she thought she heard a bump on the roof one night. Asked which night, she couldnā€™t rightly say. Asked if it was Monday night, she thought it very likely. Asked if it mightnā€™t have been in that high wind on Saturday night that blew my chimney-pot off, she couldnā€™t say but what it might have been. Asked if she was sure it was on the roof and not inside the flat, said to be sure they did find a picture tumbled down next morning. Very suggestible girl. I saw your friends, Mr. and Mrs. Appledore, who received me coldly, but could make no definite complaint about Thipps except that his mother dropped her hā€™s, and that he once called on them uninvited, armed with a pamphlet about anti-vivisection. The Indian Colonel on the first floor was loud, but unexpectedly friendly. He gave me Indian curry for supper and some very good whisky, but heā€™s a sort of hermit, and all he could tell me was that he couldnā€™t stand Mrs. Appledore.ā€

ā€œDid you get nothing at the house?ā€

ā€œOnly Levyā€™s private diary. I brought it away with me. Here it is. It doesnā€™t tell one much, though. Itā€™s full of entries like: ā€˜Tom and Annie to dinnerā€™; and ā€˜My dear wifeā€™s birthday; gave her an old opal ringā€™; ā€˜Mr. Arbuthnot dropped in to tea; he wants to marry Rachel, but I should like someone steadier for my treasure.ā€™ Still, I thought it would show who came to the house and so on. He evidently wrote it up at night. Thereā€™s no entry for Monday.ā€

ā€œI expect itā€™ll be useful,ā€ said Lord Peter, turning over the pages. ā€œPoor old buffer. I say, Iā€™m not so certain now he was done away with.ā€

He detailed to Mr. Parker his dayā€™s work.

ā€œArbuthnot?ā€ said Parker. ā€œIs that the Arbuthnot of the diary?ā€

ā€œI suppose so. I hunted him up because I knew he was fond of fooling round the Stock Exchange. As for Milligan, he looks all right, but I believe heā€™s pretty ruthless in business and you never can tell. Then thereā€™s the red-haired secretaryā€”lightninā€™ calculator man with a face like a fish, keeps on sayinā€™ nuthinā€™ā€”got the Tarbaby in his family tree, I should think. Milliganā€™s got a jolly good motive for, at any

1 ... 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 ... 31
Go to page:

Free e-book Ā«Whose Body? - Dorothy L. Sayers (motivational books to read .TXT) šŸ“—Ā» - read online now

Comments (0)

There are no comments yet. You can be the first!
Add a comment