Very wise of you, said Lord Peter, cheerfully. Youre a very far-seein man, Mr. Thipps. Wonderful what a little nipll do in case of need, and the less youre used to it the more good it does you. Hope your girl is a sensible young woman, what? Nuisance to have women faintin and shriekin all over the place.
Oh, Gladys is a good girl, said Mr. Thipps, very reasonable indeed. She was shocked, of course; thats very understandable. I was shocked myself, and it wouldnt be proper in a young woman not to be shocked under the circumstances, but she is reely a helpful, energetic girl in a crisis, if you understand me. I consider myself very fortunate these days to have got a good, decent girl to do for me and Mother, even though she is a bit careless and forgetful about little things, but thats only natural. She was very sorry indeed about having left the bathroom window open, she reely was, and though I was angry at first, seeing whats come of it, it wasnt anything to speak of, not in the ordinary way, as you might say. Girls will forget things, you know, my lord, and reely she was so distressed I didnt like to say too much to her. All I said was: It might have been burglars, I said, remember that, next time you leave a window open all night; this time it was a dead man, I said, and thats unpleasant enough, but next time it might be burglars, I said, and all of us murdered in our beds. But the police-inspector Inspector Sugg, they called him, from the Yard he was very sharp with her, poor girl. Quite frightened her, and made her think he suspected her of something, though what good a body could be to her, poor girl, I cant imagine, and so I told the Inspector. He was quite rude to me, my lord I may say I didnt like his manner at all. If youve got anything definite to accuse Gladys or me of, Inspector, I said to him, bring it forward, thats what you have to do, I said, but Ive yet to learn that youre paid to be rude to a gentleman in his own ouse house. Reely, said Mr. Thipps, growing quite pink on the top of his head, he regularly roused me, regularly roused me, my lord, and Im a mild man as a rule.
Sugg all over, said Lord Peter. I know him. When he dont know what else to say, hes rude. Stands to reason you and the girl wouldnt go collectin bodies. Whod want to saddle himself with a body? Difficultys usually to get rid of em. Have you got rid of this one yet, by the way?
Its still in the bathroom, said Mr. Thipps. Inspector Sugg said nothing was to be touched till his men came in to move it. Im expecting them at any time. If it would interest your lordship to have a look at it
Thanks awfully, said Lord Peter. Id like to very much, if Im not puttin you out.
Not at all, said Mr. Thipps. His manner as he led the way along the passage convinced Lord Peter of two things first, that, gruesome as his exhibit was, he rejoiced in the importance it reflected upon himself and his flat, and secondly, that Inspector Sugg had forbidden him to exhibit it to anyone. The latter supposition was confirmed by the action of Mr. Thipps, who stopped to fetch the door-key from his bedroom, saying that the police had the other, but that he made it a rule to have two keys to every door, in case of accident.
The bathroom was in no way remarkable. It was long and narrow, the window being exactly over the head of the bath. The panes were of frosted glass; the frame wide enough to admit a mans body. Lord Peter stepped rapidly across to it, opened it and looked out.
The flat was the top one of the building and situated about the middle of the block. The bathroom window looked out upon the back-yards of the flats, which were occupied by various small outbuildings, coal-holes, garages, and the like. Beyond these were the back gardens of a parallel line of houses. On the right rose the extensive edifice of St. Lukes Hospital, Battersea, with its grounds, and, connected with it by a covered way, the residence of the famous surgeon, Sir Julian Freke, who directed the surgical side of the great new hospital, and was, in addition, known in Harley Street as a distinguished neurologist with a highly individual point of view.
This information was poured into Lord Peters ear at considerable length by Mr. Thipps, who seemed to feel that the neighbourhood of anybody so distinguished shed a kind of halo of glory over Queen Caroline Mansions.
We had him round here himself this morning, he said, about this horrid business. Inspector Sugg thought one of the young medical gentlemen at the hospital might have brought the corpse round for a joke, as you might say, they always having bodies in the dissecting-room. So Inspector Sugg went round to see Sir Julian this morning to ask if there was a body missing. He was very kind, was Sir Julian, very kind indeed, though he was at work when they got there, in the dissecting-room. He looked up the books to see that all the bodies were accounted for, and then very obligingly came round here to look at this he indicated the bath and said he was afraid he couldnt help us there was no corpse missing from the hospital, and this one didnt answer to the description of any theyd had.
Nor to the description of any of the patients, I hope, suggested Lord Peter casually.
At this grisly hint Mr. Thipps turned pale.
I didnt hear Inspector Sugg inquire, he said, with some agitation. What a very horrid thing that would be God bless my soul, my lord, I never thought of it.
Well, if they had missed a patient theyd probably have discovered it by now, said Lord Peter. Lets have a look at this one.
He screwed his monocle into his eye, adding: I see youre troubled here with the soot blowing in. Beastly nuisance, aint it? I get it, too spoils all my books, you know. Here, dont you trouble, if you dont care about lookin at it.
He took from Mr. Thippss hesitating hand the sheet which had been flung over the bath, and turned it back.
The body which lay in the bath was that of a tall, stout man of about fifty. The hair, which was thick and black and naturally curly, had been cut and parted by a master hand, and exuded a faint violet perfume, perfectly recognisable in the close air of the bathroom. The features were thick, fleshy and strongly marked, with prominent dark eyes, and a long nose curving down to a heavy chin. The clean-shaven lips were full and sensual, and the dropped jaw showed teeth stained with tobacco. On the dead face the handsome pair of gold pince-nez mocked death with grotesque elegance; the fine gold chain curved over the naked breast. The legs lay stiffly stretched out side by side; the arms reposed close to the body; the fingers were flexed naturally. Lord Peter lifted one arm, and looked at the hand with a little frown.
Bit of a dandy, your visitor, what? he murmured. Parma violet and manicure. He bent again, slipping his hand beneath the head. The absurd eyeglasses slipped off, clattering into the bath, and the noise put the last touch to Mr. Thippss growing nervousness.
If youll excuse me, he murmured, it makes me feel quite faint, it reely does.
He slipped outside, and he had no sooner done so than Lord Peter, lifting the body quickly and cautiously, turned it over and inspected it with his head on one side, bringing his monocle into play with the air of the late Joseph Chamberlain approving a rare orchid. He then laid the head over his arm, and bringing out the silver matchbox from his pocket, slipped it into the open mouth. Then making the noise usually written Tut-tut, he laid the body down, picked up the mysterious pince-nez, looked at it, put it on his nose and looked through it, made the same noise again, readjusted the pince-nez upon the nose of the corpse, so as to leave no traces of interference for the irritation of Inspector Sugg; rearranged the body; returned to the window and, leaning out, reached upwards and sideways with his walking-stick, which he had somewhat incongruously brought along with him. Nothing appearing to come of these investigations, he withdrew his head, closed the window, and rejoined Mr. Thipps in the passage.
Mr. Thipps, touched by this sympathetic interest in the younger son of a duke, took the liberty, on their return to the sitting-room, of offering him a cup of tea. Lord Peter, who had strolled over to the window and was admiring the outlook on Battersea Park, was about to accept, when an ambulance came into view at the end of Prince of Wales Road. Its appearance reminded Lord Peter of an important engagement, and with a hurried By Jove!he took his leave of Mr. Thipps.
My mother sent kind regards and all that, he said, shaking hands fervently; hopes youll soon be down at Denver again. Good-bye, Mrs. Thipps, he bawled kindly into the ear of the old lady. Oh, no, my dear sir, please dont trouble to come down.
He was none too soon. As he stepped out of the door and turned towards the station, the ambulance drew up from the other direction, and Inspector Sugg emerged from it with two constables. The Inspector spoke to the officer on duty at the Mansions, and turned a suspicious gaze on Lord Peters retreating back.
Dear old Sugg, said that nobleman, fondly, dear, dear old bird! How he does hate me, to be sure.
Chapter II
Excellent, Bunter, said Lord Peter, sinking with a sigh into a luxurious armchair. I couldnt have done better myself. The thought of the Dante makes my mouth water and the Four Sons of Aymon. And youve saved me £60 thats glorious. What shall we spend it on, Bunter? Think of it all ours, to do as we like with, for as Harold Skimpole so rightly observes, £60 saved is £60 gained, and Id reckoned on spending it all. Its your saving, Bunter, and properly speaking, your £60. What do we want? Anything in your department? Would you like anything altered in the flat?
Well, my lord, as your lordship is so good the man-servant paused, about to pour an old brandy into a liqueur glass.
Well, out with it, my Bunter, you imperturbable old hypocrite. Its no good talking as if you were announcing dinner youre spilling the brandy. The voice is Jacobs voice, but the hands are the hands of Esau. What does that blessed darkroom of yours want now?
Theres a Double Anastigmat with a set of supplementary lenses, my lord, said Bunter, with a note almost of religious fervour. If it was a case of forgery now or footprints I could enlarge them right up on the plate. Or the wide-angled lens would be useful. Its as though the camera had eyes at the back of its head, my lord. Look Ive got it here.
He pulled a catalogue from his pocket, and submitted it, quivering, to his employers gaze.
Lord Peter perused the description slowly, the corners of his long mouth lifted into a faint smile.
Its Greek to me, he said, and £50 seems a ridiculous price for a few bits of glass. I suppose, Bunter, youd say £750 was a bit out of the way for a dirty old book in a dead language, wouldnt you?
It wouldnt be my place to say so, my lord.
No, Bunter, I pay you £200 a year to keep your thoughts to yourself. Tell me, Bunter, in these democratic days, dont you think thats unfair?
No, my lord.
You dont. Dyou mind telling me frankly why you dont think it unfair?
Frankly, my lord, your lordship is paid a noblemans income to take Lady Worthington in to dinner and refrain from exercising your lordships undoubted powers of repartee.
Lord Peter considered this.
Thats your idea, is it, Bunter? Noblesse oblige for a consideration. I daresay youre right. Then youre better off than I am, because Id have to behave myself to Lady Worthington if I hadnt a penny. Bunter, if I sacked you here and now, would you tell me what you think of me?
No, my lord.
Youd have a perfect right to, my Bunter, and if I sacked you on top of drinking the kind of coffee you make, Id deserve everything you could say of me. Youre a demon for coffee, Bunter I dont want to know how you do it, because I believe it to be witchcraft, and I dont want to burn eternally. You can buy your cross-eyed lens.
Thank you, my lord.
Have you finished in the dining-room?
Not quite, my lord.
Well, come back when you have. I have many things to tell you. Hullo! whos that?
The doorbell had rung sharply.
Unless its anybody interestin Im not at home.
Very good, my lord.
Lord Peters library was one of the most delightful bachelor rooms in London. Its scheme was black and primrose; its walls were lined with rare editions, and its chairs and Chesterfield sofa suggested the embraces of the houris. In one corner stood a black baby grand, a wood fire leaped on a wide old-fashioned hearth, and the Sèvres vases on the chimneypiece were filled with ruddy and gold chrysanthemums. To the eyes of the young man who was ushered in from the raw November fog it seemed not only rare and unattainable, but friendly and familiar, like a colourful and gilded paradise in a mediaeval painting.
Mr. Parker, my lord.
Lord Peter jumped up with genuine eagerness.
My dear man, Im delighted to see you. What a beastly foggy night, aint it? Bunter, some more of that admirable coffee and another glass and the cigars. Parker, I hope youre full of crime nothing less than arson or murder will do for us tonight. On such a night as this Bunter and I were just sitting down to carouse. Ive got a Dante, and a Caxton folio that is practically unique, at Sir Ralph Brockleburys sale. Bunter, who did the bargaining, is going to have a lens which does all kinds of wonderful things with its eyes shut, and
We both have got a body in a bath,
We both have got a body in a bath
For in spite of all temptations
To go in for cheap sensations
We insist upon a body in a bath
Nothing less will do for us, Parker. Its mine at present, but were going shares in it. Property of the firm. Wont you join us? You really must put something in the jack-pot. Perhaps you have a body. Oh, do have a body. Every body welcome.
Gin a body meet a body
Hauled before the beak,
Gin a body jolly well knows who murdered a body and that old Sugg is on the wrong tack,
Need a body speak?
Not a bit of it. He tips a glassy wink to yours truly and yours truly reads the truth.
Ah, said Parker, I knew youd been round to Queen Caroline Mansions. Sove I, and met Sugg, and he told me hed seen you. He was cross, too. Unwarrantable interference, he calls it.
I knew he would, said Lord Peter. I love taking a rise out of dear old Sugg, hes always so rude. I see by the Star that he has excelled himself by taking the girl, Gladys Whats-her-name, into custody. Sugg of the evening, beautiful Sugg! But what were you doing there?
To tell you the truth, said Parker, I went round to see if the Semitic-looking stranger in Mr. Thippss bath was by any extraordinary chance Sir Reuben Levy. But he isnt.
Sir Reuben Levy? Wait a minute, I saw something about that. I know! A headline: Mysterious disappearance of famous financier. Whats it all about? I didnt read it carefully.
Well, its a bit odd, though I daresay its nothing really old chap may have cleared for some reason best known to himself. It only happened this morning, and nobody would have thought anything about it, only it happened to be the day on which he had arranged to attend a most important financial meeting and do some deal involving millions I havent got all the details. But I know hes got enemies whod just as soon the deal didnt come off, so when I got wind of this fellow in the bath, I buzzed round to have a look at him. It didnt seem likely, of course, but unlikelier things do happen in our profession. The funny thing is, old Sugg had got bitten with the idea it is him, and is wildly telegraphing to Lady Levy to come and identify him. But as a matter of fact, the man in the bath is no more Sir Reuben Levy than Adolf Beck, poor devil, was John Smith. Oddly enough, though, he would be really extraordinarily like Sir Reuben if he had a beard, and as Lady Levy is abroad with the family, somebody may say its him, and Sugg will build up a lovely theory, like the Tower of Babel, and destined so to perish.